Holidays with Merthur
by alixxblack
Summary: This collection of one-shot stories are just my visions of Merlin and Arthur's relationship during holidays (with which I am most familiar). Each chapter does stand alone and can be read in any order. Most chapters T for mild language or mild suggestive content. Individual chapters will be rated at the beginning if there's deviation.
1. Gratia Sabbati

A/N: Judge with the kindest spot of your heart.

* * *

Arthur watches as Merlin stops to talk to Gwen across the way. She's leaning in, probably to hear her peer more clearly, and it puts a strange knot in his stomach. He wasn't keen on addressing why it was that Merlin's proximity to anyone made him nervous. As such, he convinces himself now that Gwen is leaning into him – into Merlin – because she can't hear him. The laugh and nearly bump their foreheads together. Just before walking away Merlin places a hand on her shoulder. Arthur watches as his lips form words, and his mind produces his voice clearly: _"Gratia Sabbati!"_

The celebrations began today. He wasn't planning on attending the dinner but Merlin was nagging him about having to stay in Camelot. He's been asking for weeks if he can go home to visit his mother. His argument has been that he works very hard to keep the crowned prince happy. This is not wrong but Arthur selfishly denied him that right. Well, his father would call it a privilege.

Morgana was giving Gwen the week off, kind of. Gwen only need be present for the evening dinners. A swarm of men were always propositioning her for marriage, or something more intimately casual. Arthur wouldn't doubt her to take advantage of the overwhelming interest in her, but Gwen was her scapegoat. Gwen kept her busy and very off limits. Who would dare propose in front the ward's handmaiden? Some, but not many, as Arthur has heard.

Arthur's desire to keep Merlin around was simply to avoid being alone. Plenty of knights would have no problem keeping the prince company. After all, they were essentially equals. Unfortunately, during Gratia Sabatti nothing changes for Arthur except that men he would normally be thanking were thanking him. He was not deserving of such gratitude.

"Sire, would like a refill?" A manservant that doesn't belong to Arthur disrupts his thoughts. With his eyes still glued to Merlin he barely registers the request for more. The young man, barely into his teens, swapped his goblet for another and went on his way. A few princesses were standing nearby and focused as he was on Merlin weaving in and out of the crowd, he overheard their conversation.

" _His father intends to marry him off to form an alliance."_

" _Do you think he would fancy a dance?"_

" _I've heard he has a close relationship with one of the servants in the castle."_

Arthur chuckles, partially because of the girls speculating on his life and also because Merlin trips over a knight's foot poking out of a table. It is not a Camelot knight, though, and it turns badly very quickly. It only takes a second for Arthur to dash over to his manservant.

"You rotten bag of bones!" The guest calls out to Merlin. He's mumbling his apologies as he picks up the food from the floor and uses his dull blue scarf to mop up his spilled ale. For a split second Arthur was glad to have accepted a goblet from another servant. Then he snaps back into the moment.

"You should be whipped for your insolence!" Instantly the knight's hands are wrapped around Merlin's shoulders. Arthur swipes the man's sword from the side of the table and twirls easily around them, the blade soon pointed at his face.

The knight's gaze shifts from his manservant to the prince, "What business do you have with this man?" Merlin shifts slightly to Arthur. His eyes scream that he is frightened, but his face denies any such thing. His body language insists that he's handling it.

"This fool spilt his drink and wasted my food. Too drunk to walk straight. Does your father employ drunks intentionally?" Arthur opens his mouth to reply but the knight continues, "I've heard your servant spends a fair bit of time in the tavern defying your orders."

Arthur doesn't recognize the man but he steps in with the blade still pointed at his face. Offending a prince is always unwise, but insulting one by means of his servant and best friend…

"You would be wise to shut your mouth and leave Camelot while I'm feeling kind. You do not come into my family's home and insult our staff, and our judgment. If you do not go willingly then I shall make you." Arthur commands in the lowest tone possible to avoid drawing any further attention from the surrounding crowds. Merlin takes a moment to step away and flee the scene, muttering something unclear as he runs away. Arthur tries not to consider that he may well be running to find Gwen, who will inevitably send Morgana for damage control.

The two men stand there unflinching, but eventually the knight concedes. At first Arthur believes he is going to apologize. Instead he says something else, "Prat son of a prat king. Your father is not the majesty you think he is – and that's why he toddles you off on every quest he can, making you every bit the fool of your manservant. You're not impressive in any way, Arthur Pendragon, and certainly not deserving of the title 'crowned prince.' This land would be better off without you." Arthur reacts quickly. He smacks the butt of the man's sword on the top of his head, careful not to let his full strength or anger kill the poor sod. The instant his body shrinks to the ground he lets the sword clang to the floor. Arthur has no desire to remain in the banquet hall any further.

He must pass the princesses as he leaves, and he overhears one of them elaborate further on her earlier comments; _"They say he holds his servant above all others. He trusts nobody more, and cares for nobody quite as much."_

Arthur wouldn't deny any of those claims. Very few had proven themselves as loyal as Merlin, and even less than that had spent the time learning about him. Arthur couldn't deny that life without Merlin likely wasn't worth living.

Morgana comes running down the hall with Gwen by her side. Their eyes are wide in terror but they smile cautiously as they slow to stop Arthur. When they see he has no intention of slowing down they pivot to follow him. Their questions are constant… "Did you get hurt," "Did you hurt him," "What will Uther say," and "Where are you going?"

He remains silent for each question, until finally Gwen asks what Arthur intends to do if the man does not leave or complains to his father. Figuring that he has no place as these Gratia Sabbati parties, Arthur declares, "I won't be here to find out. I'll be going to Ealdor with Merlin. Don't bother me any further."

Once he is free of the crowds Arthur begins to sprint through the halls. He must back before his father has the opportunity to protest. Worse, he may call for Arthur to formally apologize. If the princesses were hearing that he'd be married off to build a strong alliance, well, he couldn't rule out the possibility that Uther would marry him off the kingdom to which the knight belongs. Arthur doesn't even stop to observe his surroundings when he slams the chamber door open. His body simply rushes in a common pattern to gather his most pertinent belongings for a three day travel.

"Sire, how did you miss that you'd hit someone with the door?" Merlin complains. When Arthur catches sight of him he sees blood flowing down the man's face. Feeling quite awful he stops and starts pulling his shirt off to sop up the blood. Merlin gestures that he'll use his own shirt, and has it off before Arthur is able to make it half way across the room.

For a second all he does is stare. In the years that Merlin has been serving him, he's never once seen him undressed. This is surprising, too, since there've been a good many times that Merlin's life was nearly lost. When Merlin catches him staring he puts on a lopsided grin, "Think you could ride about without your shirt? We wouldn't need any torches."

Merlin sneers at the prince, "Where would we even ride? We'd be lucky to leave the room without causing a scene now. Thanks for that, by the way."

Arthur grins, "We're going to Ealdor. Without your shirt you mother would see you coming the instant we left the castle."

Passively announcing that they needed to leave was nearly lost on the manservant. A second or so passes before he smiles and starts helping Arthur prepare, one hand holding his red shirt to his face. Arthur doesn't allow him to do much moving, "Please just lay down. The blood floor won't stop if you keep your head tilted down." Arthur had been lectures by Gaius a good number of times for accidentally break the noses of his knights and sparring partners. This wasn't even the first time that he'd given Merlin a bloody nose.

Arthur doesn't specify where he intends for Merlin to rest. Part of him assumes that Merlin will go to the bed. When he sees the daft man splayed on the floor he shakes his hand and hovers over him with crossed arms.

"Damn you, Merlin, why can't you just do what's expected of you for once? Get on the bed!" Even with a cloth covering half of his face Merlin's grin fills the room. They sit looking at one another without much to interrupt them. A few laughs and squabbles in the streets can be heard through his open windows, but mostly Arthur just waits for his friend to get off the cold floor and relocate.

Merlin doesn't budge, "Think of the talk if someone saw you luring me into our bed. A prince and a servant, how scandalous."

"Somehow I think Morgana's suitors will draw more attention." Arthur counters. Honestly he wants to ask if the young man had heard the same whispers. If those princesses were thinking he was romantically inclined towards Merlin, then there had to be a group of people suggesting as much. Arthur has not heard serious talk on the topic. Sure, a dozen of the knights imply that Merlin and Arthur are as inseparable as a husband and wife, but those were jokes. They were meant to be nothing more than a laugh.

Merlin finally sits up and checks his nose. The bleeding has slowed, and he swears he can just stuff a napkin in his nostril. For some reason this makes Arthur laugh hysterically, and he pushes Merlin towards the bed. Soon the manservant is laughing too. Together they sit on the bed.

"For once I am genuinely sorry for causing you trouble. I know you were dreading this week." Merlin admits as he falls back on the mattress. He lets out a sigh that tells Arthur he's never been on a proper mattress before nor enjoyed a soft bed. Admittedly, his heart sinks at the thought. Though he is a commoner he is no more than Arthur. In his mind the two of them are equals.

Arthur looks sideways at his friend, "I haven't even made a comment about the Gratia Sabbati gathering. What makes you think I was dreading it?"

Surely it was obvious to everyone around him. Arthur made little effort to invite anyone personally, and by little he certainly made none. The only invite he had prepared was to Lancelot. It is still his belief that his father was wrong for denying Lancelot the privilege of being a knight. Of course, he knew Lancelot would never accept the invitation. He was banished, after all, for his lies.

A lie made for the right reasons to the wrong man. Arthur would have never let the man go, were it his call, but it was not at the time. Someday it will be, and maybe he will invite the man back to serve under his reign. He hopes it is not too soon that those calls are his to make.

"I can hear it in the way you talk. I can see it in the way you avoided any meetings on the celebrations. You've taken our supper here instead of the dining hall for weeks now." Merlin rushes each sentence out in a single breath, and continues on even further after sucking in a mouthful of air. He rests his free hand on his forehead as he tilts to look more directly at Arthur, "You've been more demanding in our requests lately. You've been unfair in your punishments, but tonight you were quick to defend me when I've actually done something wrong. But the biggest giveaway was you being unwilling to let me visit Ealdor."

Arthur cocks a brow, "When have I ever given you time off, Merlin? You're daft if you thought I was ever going to approve that request." Everyone calls him out for working Merlin nonstop. There was nowhere he went without the manservant, not even on hunts. He was required to be present at all times. Perhaps this is why the rumors of his affections for the young man were beginning to circulate? Arthur knows it is, but he doesn't want to think on the matter any further. It is easier to call himself out for his poor treatment of Merlin.

"You might be a professional sod but you're not cruel. You would not have kept me here if you weren't desperate for the company this week. I can be upset and still understand." Merlin shares quite calmly. At times he is too wise to be a mere servant in the castle. In fact, Arthur wondered if Merlin had a secret that would change the way Arthur looked at him. There had to be something about Merlin that he simply didn't know yet. It would be the final detail to explaining how he was so helpful, loyal, and smart without effort.

Sometimes Arthur theorized that Merlin was the bastard son of a noble, others he thought the young man was studying to be a scholar when he was "at the tavern." Arthur has never believed those lies. Gaius is simply covering for his apprentice. A secret does exist but Arthur does not press it. He fears that if he pressures Merlin to share that it will be the end of the friendship.

Arthur is at peace knowing he cannot stand to lose the bond they share. When everyone else fails him there will always be Merlin to stand at his side, boldly committed to the crowned prince. Even when Arthur is unsure of himself he has somebody assuring him that he's doing what is right. There is no life without the young man.

"You're wrong, but I suppose I should be grateful for the kind things you say about me even when I've been rotten." Arthur tells him, "I was packing for Ealdor, by the way. We can leave as soon as we're both packed."

Merlin rattles on about how it is not a good idea to travel in the night. He warns of bandits and druids, there could be any number of large bears wandering around before hibernation looking for food. He promises there's not a safe place to camp. When he pulls the napkin to check if he's still bleeding, though, Arthur spots a sincere smile upon his lips. The only logical thing to do is keep packing.

There is absolutely no way that Merlin is turning Arthur down on this opportunity.

* * *

Merlin is slowing the pace a little bit, realizing that Arthur may be on the verge of passing out. They've not spoken much since leaving the castle, and it is mainly because they've been pushing themselves to move as quickly as possible. The horses starting weakening several hours ago, and their gallops are barely the running speed of a person.

"We need to rest soon, Arthur. Even I'm getting tired." The suggestion seems to fall on deaf ears. Since the sunrise the prince has been oddly quiet. By what, Merlin is not sure. Merlin was sharing his goings-on with the prince, who'd uncharacteristically inquired about his life away from the castle. Merlin reflects on his response, _"There isn't much of one."_ His magic was the only thing he ever cared much about when he wasn't working for Arthur or Gaius.

Sometimes he would help Gwen with something here or there, which he'd told Arthur about. Recently the young woman asked him to help her harvest a garden for a friend that was ill in the lower city. Even more recently than that she was shopping for Morgana was Merlin was purchasing goods for Gaius. He told him about the lovely picnic they'd had after their trip.

" _Where was I?"_ Arthur questioned. Merlin knew exactly where the king was – meetings. There were these small conferences he shared with Uther. Everything was shared with Merlin after the fact, but the king strictly forbade Merlin's presence. Uther was never worried about Merlin knowing too much, but just being too involved. Of course, that is likely a nicer way of saying he doesn't want Merlin too involved. It will make him a liability.

Unfortunately, his magic makes him a liability to Arthur more than anything.

Just after all of that Arthur asked Merlin a more personal question. The warlock hadn't even replied initially because it was such a shock. He never properly considered the prospect before, _"Are you courting Guinevere?"_

Merlin cares for Gwen deeply, he really does, but even when the possibility arose to be interested in her romantically it did not seem appealing. She kissed him once, which he stupidly shared with Arthur when he did finally speak up. However, he was clear to tell Arthur that his priority was always his work. He was always focused on being at Arthur's side; _"Everyone deserves a friend. I hope that you see me as one."_

"I'll rest when we get there. I am not visiting anyone so I'll just have your bed while you run about visiting old friends." Of course, there are no friends left alive. Merlin was always a bit of an outcast. Nobody knew he had magic, except his mother, back in Ealdor. The only friend he had that did know had died covering for him. Merlin felt guilty so much still that he couldn't think his name. It was just a reminder of the losses he's suffered for his gifts.

If it could even be called a gift…

"There's a tavern somewhere around here. Maybe we could rest there for the night. Then we can power straight through the rest of the way." Merlin suggests the only thing that may be logical in Arthur's mind. In a way it feels as though he's running away from something. Sometimes he fears the prince isn't up the task of ruling a kingdom. Merlin knows Arthur is ready but selfishly he is glad that the burdens are not on his shoulders. In his heart he knows that kingship will only bring about new stresses, some of which may create a rift between the two of them.

In too many ways, Arthur has become Merlin's life. Kilgarrah had said to him, "two sides of the same coin." Merlin is bound to Arthur as fate. The future they each have is sewn together in the fabrics of time, and destined to be one and the same. Nothing matters more to Merlin than ensuring that Arthur Pendragon reaches his full potential.

Still, the dedication is more than that. He lies not when he says he wants Arthur to see him as a friend. This is how Merlin sees their relationship. Forcing himself out of his thoughts, he presses Arthur again, "What do you say? We call it a night when we get to the tavern?"

Arthur shrugs his shoulders. He is still wrapped up in his thoughts. Merlin steers his horse closer to the prince and reaches an arm out to prod him. At the last second before they touch Arthur speeds up.

"Race you there. I guess a pint of ale wouldn't be too bad right now." Before Merlin can even blink the prince is a kilometer or two ahead of the warlock. If he were a lesser man he'd use his magic to revive the horse's strength but it hardly seems fair. Arthur had to bond with his horse to get it responding so well to him. Merlin should just play by the rules, as he usually does with Arthur.

Arthur arrives first. Merlin straggles in easily two hours later with all of his bags on his shoulders and a crooked grin wrinkling his face. Immediately he spots Arthur at the counter with a gentleman. Unable to see the person's face, Merlin scurries up with every intention of scolding Arthur for not at least waiting outside to help with the luggage.

Once he steps between Arthur and his newfound guest a familiar voice rings in his ears; "Merlin!"

Instinctively he drops everything.

"Oi! Lancelot!" Merlin throws his arms around his lost friend. All the emotions of failing him rise again and tears threaten his eyes. Surely they are bloodshot now but he nestles his face into the hood of Lancelot's jacket.

Lancelot starts by asking what brings Merlin and Arthur away from the castle during Gratia Sabbati. Arthur tries to insert himself into the conversation but Merlin greedily shuts him out. Instead of answering the question he issues further inquiry; "What have you been doing?"

The barstool scoots behind him, and Merlin hears that Arthur is gathering some of the bags. Something is deeply off about Arthur and it just worsens as time passes. Once he is sure that Arthur has gone off, probably to the room, he addresses the matter to Lancelot. Only once he's finished his recount of life since being banished from Camelot.

"I wander in and out along the borders for odd jobs, but I spend a fair bit of time near Ealdor. Your mother's hospitality knows no bounds, Merlin. Hunith is a kind woman and it is now no surprise that Arthur is well off with you." Lancelot puts a hand on Merlin's forearm. Quickly he peers around the room again, especially careful to check behind him. This is his opportunity to ask an outsider for an opinion on the odd behavior.

He leans closer and uses the softest tone he can manage while remaining perfectly clear; "Speaking of Arthur, he's been off the last couple of days. It's not in a bad way but it is troubling."

Lancelot's brows jerk up but only for a moment. Unexpectedly he looks around for the prince too. Together they silent decide to move the conversation outside. Each man grabs a pint and walks out the entrance very casually. It is easily ten or fifteen minutes before they are far enough away to feel comfortable.

The topic isn't sensitive, but the subject may be. Merlin doesn't want to offend Arthur by not asking him directly. It would not produce an answer even if he asks directly because the prince is stubborn. Days of nagging would probably get the truth out, in small spurts if he was lucky enough.

Once they are sure they are safe from prying ears Merlin unloads. Arthur's harassment of the knight in the castle, the offer to lay upon his bed in his private chambers, the decision to travel with him to Ealdor, and the questioning of romantic relationship with Gwen. It took a moment to stop Lancelot from laughing, knowing full well that Gwen was in love with him. When he did stop, though, he ruffled his hair and knotted his brows in though.

"Something must be bothering him about you. When you get around people that know you they whisper. I've experienced it when the knights run into me on a quest. They talk about you when they think you can't hear. Inevitably where there is conversation about Arthur Pendragon there will be talk of his servant. The two of you are one and the same." Fear creeps into his gut. Lancelot must see it on his face and tries to comfort him, "It might be something meaningless. Just a few nights ago I was helping a blacksmith with a king's armor needing repaired while they stopped. There were some knights rattling on about the princess learning to kiss from her handmaiden."

Merlin scoffed, "You've become a gossip, haven't you?"

A laugh fills the air, "No, I just hear things. Can't make friends very well when you're travelling. I learn all my news listening on the streets. Rumors of painfully dull things go around, but sometimes the right person hears it and questions it." Lancelot doesn't have to say that Merlin should just ask for him to know. Ever the knight, he always believes in the good of people. Lancelot is honest and compassionate, and every bit the true love Gwen deserves. Merlin mourns silently a moment on the lost chance as romance the two could have shared in Camelot. Imagining Gwen as more than a handmaiden to Morgana swells his heart. What a noblewomen she could have been, he thinks.

"Even though I know you're probably right, I can't shake the feeling that this is more than that. Will you be staying the night here? In case I get kicked out of our room, you know." Each chugs the last bits of their drinks. As they head back Lancelot assures Merlin that he can afford another night and will be available if Arthur shuts him out. The man even offers his assistance to the warlock if the need arises.

"I'm sure you have a spell to draw the truth out. But you're the best knight of us all." Lancelot proclaims, "And I don't see you doing anything like that to someone as important to you are Arthur."

Soon the two go separate ways, Merlin using what money he has to pay for the drinks. He swears it an expression of gratitude for Lancelot's secrecy and friendship. It is also penance for all the wrong he committed against the poor man. Though his life was not different fundamentally, Lancelot knew the other side of his story. Merlin believes knowing is dangerous. The cost of knowing cannot be seen but can be felt. He hates how Lancelot must feel when he's on his own.

Arthur is lying facedown on the bed when he finds the room described by the barkeep. Lancelot is at the end of the same hallway, which means Merlin won't be going far if he needs a back-up location for sleeping. No sooner does the door shut does he open his mouth.

No need in dancing around the topic, he decides; "What's bothering you?"

Arthur grunts.

"Tell me what's got your knickers in a knot." Merlin pushes again.

And…

Arthur merely grunts again. Though this time he switches to having the pillow under his head to over it. A very childish reaction, the thought settles, but somehow unsurprising to Merlin. Honestly, he's done the same to Gaius.

"Sire, you can tell me what's bothering you or I can make something up. Which do you think is going to be more embarrassing? The truth – or what I piece together?" He's hoping that Arthur would be more worried about the convoluted story the manservant could create. After all, nobody is closer to Arthur than he is – and the number of embarrassing stories that Merlin knew should reasonably be enough to get him talking.

Arthur Pendragon is not a reasonable man.

Made even more apparent by his resistance, "Do your worst, Merlin, and pay the consequences."

Chickening out, Merlin lays down on the neighboring bed with his gaze cast to the sky. He knows he should be spouting off some nonsense to coerce a response from Arthur. He knows he should be pressing harder. Merlin hasn't a clue how he knows this but he just does.

"Thanks for keeping your mouth shut." Arthur grumbles from beneath the pillow, "You did our job for once."

Merlin laughs, "So you want to talk about! You just don't want to tell me willingly!"

Arthur sits up and throws his pillow. Then he crawls out of the bed and pushes Merlin playfully; "I don't want to talk about it but I don't want you to be quiet either. I'm so used to you being a loudmouthed wanker that I don't know what to do without the noise."

Merlin cannot resist laughing at him. Whatever has gotten into Arthur, he can't say he minds. This is a slightly softer version of the man he's been serving for years. The gentler playfulness and the genuine interest in Merlin are refreshing.

They sit still on Merlin's bed and look around the room, the silence becoming very prominent. He can feel the prince getting irritated by his newfound quiet. It's almost intentional, in a way. Minutes pass but Arthur doesn't complain further. Merlin doesn't start a new conversation either. They just sit.

Eventually they break apart and lay down, becoming too tired to being difficult towards one another. They only speak enough to say goodnight, though Arthur does try to be cheeky about it; "Now don't you go talking at the only time I need you to be quiet, Merlin."

"Not a chance, sire." Merlin says softly. Maybe the quickest way to get Arthur to reveal what's eating away at him isn't to ask, but to be silent. Lancelot wasn't wrong. Addressing the matter directly will reveal more than sitting back and analyzing the whole ordeal.

Not talking to Arthur will be the best way to get Arthur talking to him.

* * *

"My boy!" She wails the instant she sees her son riding up on a horse. There was no letter of warning. Even she hasn't been thinking he would show up. His dedication to the young prince of Camelot was stronger than the work of fairytales. No bond was truer.

For this reason she is unsurprised to see Arthur tailing a few meters behind. A smile must rip the cheeks of her face clean off, the look on her son's face, but she doesn't care. Just having him there was enough for her – she didn't need anyone telling her she was beautiful to cheer her up today.

"Mum!" Merlin throws himself off his horse the instant he's able to do so, and he nearly knocks her down in the process. For all the joy she feels she notices there's tenseness in her son's shoulders. Though his face is convincing, his body betrays him. She doesn't dwell on that matter at this time. She wonders if perhaps the king's presence is causing him distress. Hunith can't imagine that being the issue but sometimes things are just funny that way.

Once the pair breaks apart she waves at Merlin's company; "Afternoon, my lord. What a surprise it is to see you both here." She curtsies out of habit. She knows there is no need to do as much with the prince. Merlin assured her that no amount of courtesy was ever paid to Arthur, beyond the secret charities she knew he's given to the young man.

"I was hoping it would be…" Arthur mumbled. Seconds barely seem to pass when he continues speaking, "Merlin belongs here this week. I do apologize for accompanying him, and pray that you won't be bothered by the extra company."

Hunith laughed a hearty tone into the air. As she's just been thinking, to see Merlin without Arthur would a far stranger sight. The two belonged with one another without a doubt. Each man made the other a better, stronger person. In ways they couldn't possibly yet understand, they needed each other; "Oh, my lord, I couldn't imagine my son without you. It is always an honor to have you visiting."

He's not been around many times, but when he's come with Arthur, or she's been to Camelot, the young prince has been nothing shy of compassionate. It is odd that he would be such a fine lad when his own father is a monster. Hunith only sent Merlin away for safety, and knew that even that choice may have not been the best. Her hopes were always that Gaius would keep Merlin's gifts hidden in plain sight. So far he's done a fantastic job.

"Your kind words haven't been earned, Hunith, though I thank you for them regardless. I will buy what you need for supper while you catch up with Merlin." Arthur offers without even blinking. Never has she met such a generous person borne into royalty. Again she just smiles.

Merlin insists that Arthur come along, that he's welcome to join them. They stare at one another for a few moments before Merlin jerks away, pretending not to be offended. Her son insists that the prince is just tired from the day's travels. On that note he guides her away; "Arthur will get his horse to the cottage on his own." There was no doubt of this fact. Hunith assumes that there is another matter that is concerning her young warlock, and that it's something that magic cannot solve for him.

Only one thing comes to her mind as far as things magic cannot address properly. A giggle dances around in her throat but she contains it. Knowing that it is not her place to press the matter she can only wait patiently for her son to ask the right questions.

* * *

Arthur buys what locals recommend for an easy but satisfying meal. Mostly he picks up grains. One farmer had a fresh batch of cider. The locals know Arthur because Merlin works for him, and perhaps because he's a prince. Ealdor doesn't belong to Camelot, so it really is more likely for them to associate the Pendragon heir to their local oddity. Once he's done his shopping he steers his horse in the direction of Hunith's home.

Riding through the village alone has a definite solitude about it. Arthur decides it is not a good feeling. To get his mind off being by himself he observes the people of Ealdor. It isn't big, and most of the people can be seen from the center of their town. Still, he observes everyone around him. A young man and woman, for example, as sitting together on the front steps of a cottage – it is familiar somehow.

She's sitting a step lower, head resting on his knee. Once in awhile he glances down to her while she's talking. Arthur believes the pair to be in love without any pause or doubt. They are extensions of each other. He doesn't need to look at her when she speaks because he voice is enough, because she is already a part of him. She doesn't need to be draped over him for him to know that she's invested. Arthur hasn't felt the touch of love and even with his lack of personal understanding he still knows. Anyone else would smile at the two but it just makes Arthur turn his head uneasily.

Everything bit of angst he's harboring is childish. Both he and Merlin are mature enough to address a variety of topics. There's no reason he cannot just bring up what he heard in the castle. Being so wrung out about it can only mean one thing: _there's merit in those rumors._ Was Arthur really not in love with someone because he was so invested in Merlin?

Was Arthur not in love with someone because he didn't know he was in love with Merlin?

Was that even possible?

No sooner does he cleanse those thoughts is he met with Merlin and Hunith waiting at the door for him. Apparently Arthur spent more time in town that he thought previously. As he jumps off his horse Merlin gets to work unpacking everything and taking the horse to a nearby stable. They don't have to speak.

While his servant is away, he figures it can't hurt to make small talk with his mum, "He doesn't hate working for me, right?"

"Goodness, no! Merlin may gripe about how hard you work him but he'd be lost without the job. I think he's right where he belongs, my lord." He waits for her face to contort, or to reveal dishonesty in her reply. It does no such thing. In fact, her face actually softens with happiness as she speaks.

Arthur leans out and around the corner of the house, pacing closer to Hunith. This is a daring thing to say, he knows. Accusations could easily hide in what he's going to ask. Still, he boldly carries it through before he changes his mind; "Has he ever expressed his feelings about me to you."

Arthur is expecting her to be mortified. Instead she seems to be amused. There seems to be little reason to wait outside, suddenly, and she ushers him inside the house. Deliberately she shuts the door behind her and bustles to the furthest part of the house, urging Arthur to follow along. He finds that she's going to a washbasin. The water inside must be cold, but she still carries on cleaning as usual.

Then she finally replies, "I don't think he has to, but if he's never said anything specific about you to me. No more than what I'm sure he communicates to you. I hear you're – oh what's he say…" Hunith trails off trying to remember the specific insult.

Just as it comes to her Arthur begins saying it as well, so together their voices chime; "Clotpole!"

"He hides very little from me." Arthur confirms.

They do not converse any further because Merlin rattles the door. Arthur doesn't remember the stable being that close. It is possible that the servant moved very fast in all of his eagerness. Being home gave him a fresh motivation to do his best at everything. Arthur changes the topic quickly to mask the awkward feeling that may be lingering in the room.

"I'm afraid I can't cook anything I've purchased." Remarkably, this was one incredibly important skill to have that he simply did not. From a young age his meals were prepared for him, designed specifically to make him strong and bulky. His father insisted on a "man's meal." When he was old enough to show an interest, well, he didn't. That's about the time he started burning through servants faster than a wildfire. If he were smarter that's when he would have learned to make food on his own.

But Gwen filled in where his servants were absent or lacking. Arthur supped a many time in Morgana's chambers in the evening privately. People mistake their bickering for romance, and maybe it might have been flirting at first but it was never going to last.

Morgana is every bit his opposite. She is wild, unpredictable, and excited. Where Arthur would sit back and plan for hours she would take action with consequences floating in the wind. What would irritate Arthur enough to confront his father would have Morgana waiting at a stake prepared for death. Stories will be written about her feisty defiance someday, and all Arthur could hope is that he was not the opposing force of her whims.

His cold hand jumped to his neck when Merlin chimes in, moving into their immediate presence; "It's true. He once asked me to cook to impress Gwen once. Only she wasn't excited about doing the dishes he left behind."

Arthur swats at his friend, "I was trying to show my appreciation. I value her feedback because she's honest with me." Without meaning to do it, he swings his gaze back to Hunith. She wriggles her brows at him suspiciously, or maybe it's expectantly.

Merlin shoves the prince in return, "She's the only one then?" Regardless of whether he questions if Arthur values him the young man just carries on with his usual life. It almost seems as if he falls into a pattern. Merlin hugs his mother, kisses her cheek, presses his forehead to hers and reminds her how much he loves her. They share a quiet word that is unintelligible to Arthur, and then Merlin offers to start cooking so she can rest.

Hunith doesn't relax as Merlin directs, but she takes her time finishing various chores in the cottage. One of which is setting Arthur up in Merlin's old bedroom. It leaves the prince and his manservant alone in the forefront of the house. Unsure of how to exist as a prolonged guest, Arthur watches.

Merlin is mixing the vegetables in a broth, throwing in pits of chopped rabbit every so often. The fumes from the meal are different that what Arthur's experienced before in the castle. The food is really good, and he had no complains at any point, lest Merlin brought cold food. As far as he knew he really hadn't cooked very much. The instance at Gwen's was hardly worth noting since the expectation going into it was that the prince had prepared that meal. Still he hadn't complained of the quality.

This smells so warm and welcoming. Arthur fails to keep his mouth shut, "Never thought of you as the domestic sort."

"My job is to be domestic for you, you sod." Merlin slams right back at him. When he looks up their eyes meet. Instantly he knows the man is laughing at him. Without ever breathing a word in his direction it's obvious that Arthur didn't mean it necessarily the way it came out. An entire conversation seems to take place before either of them speaks once again.

When they do begin conversing again all they discuss is life in Ealdor. The longest Arthur can stay is a week, if his father doesn't send knights after him sooner. Minutes pass quickly, each revealing more about the pair than they realize in the moment. Merlin shares that he misses simple life with his mother. Arthur doesn't feel as if he belongs at the massive banquets in the castle.

It goes on and on, even after Hunith comes back out. Merlin shares embarrassing stories about Arthur – grumbling in his sleep about fishes, or duels. Hunith fires back at him with embarrassing stories from his childhood; "Once he wouldn't let me cut his hair. He wanted a long ponytail at the back of his head. Thought it made him closer to the horses." Arthur laughs so loudly that Merlin jokes it's shaken the house up completely.

Then he spills a bit of the stew on his shirt as he test the cook of the vegetables.

"There's my clumsy Merlin." The remark happens so effortlessly that he hardly notices the language he chooses. Hunith doesn't bat an eye even when Arthur feels his eyes widen. She simply tosses a hand rag at her son before waddling away to fetch a new shirt.

His manservant watches carefully as his mother leaves. The instant he does Merlin stares the prince down; " _Your_ Merlin? Since when have I been _your_ Merlin?"

"I jumbled my worlds. I didn't mean that you're _mine_." Arthur shakes his head, jiggles in his chair, and finally stands up to stare out the window behind his friend. This is a whole mess and he doesn't know how to navigate it. Feelings are not something he excels at understanding.

Merlin pulls his shirt off and tosses it on the counter where dirty dishes from preparations rest. He leans forward and his white skin captures Arthur's attention. It was not a lie when he said the young man could light a room.

Merlin barely makes a noise when he does respond, "So what's bothering you then?" Together they sigh, knowing that the servant is referring back to when he originally questioned what was on the prince's mind. Then it has every bit as blunt, but the seriousness wasn't there. Now Merlin's voice is vibrant and bold. He won't let it go, Arthur can just tell.

So he lets it fall out, "There are rumors that you and I have a relationship."

"Of course we do." Merlin comments with his perfect as-a-matter-of-factly tone, "Friendship is a type of relationship. Perhaps you misheard."

"No more than you misheard me." Arthur bites. He wants the man to take him seriously. After all, he's been replaying the same thoughts and concerns for three days. Shouldn't Merlin now begin questioning everything in kind?

Hunith makes it back before Merlin is able to say anything further. He slides into a fresh tunic and vigorously prepares the remainder of the dinner. Well, all he needs to finish is the bread. He warms it and pulls out a bowl of butter, "Mum has a weak spot for butter from the farmer's daughter. She buys it even when she doesn't have the means." Merlin makes a stink eye at her.

Defending the decision to buy the butter is easy enough. She recounts how the young lady wants to marry the lad she's been hanging around with the last few months. Arthur asks if she could describe the couple. She obliges and confirms that the young couple he'd seen earlier in the day was the same she spoke of now. Merlin queries it, but Arthur insists that Hunith is doing a quietly kind thing.

A grin on his lips, "Those two are so obviously in love it is painful."

"How do you mean?" Merlin questions lightly. Hunith and Arthur steal glances before each of them shrugging it off. Merlin presses further, knowing that Arthur is lying; "How could you tell they loved each other."

Hunith begins, "For me it's just the way she smiles when she talks about him. Happiness is in her very blood when he's on her mind."

Arthur continues, further painting a picture; "They were barely touching and somehow they were a single unit. Some things belong together – a sword and shield, for example."

"And they just look as though they fit perfectly together!" Hunith exclaims joyfully. Arthur cannot resist grinning along with her. The love was almost tangible.

Merlin seems irritated and humored, "So how would it be painful to see that?" The question is certainly aimed at Arthur. However, Merlin's mother chooses to answer on his behalf. It's so perfect that there's no need for the prince to build upon it.

"Nothing is harder than seeing someone with something we wished we had for ourselves." Merlin knows that his mother raised him alone. His father was a mystery, somebody completely absent from his life. Once Gwen had shared with him Hunith loved Merlin's father dearly. The prince assumed she must have to not have remarried all these years.

The bits and pieces of conversation are sewn fully together. Hunith must have pieced the puzzle together early on, and says she'll take her dinner in her room. She was feeling a bit cold, or some nonsense. Arthur insists that Hunith remain at the table; "It is your home. Don't be driven away by whatever just happened."

Merlin arches his brows so high that Arthur is sure they will fall from his face any second. He protests, and suggests that maybe Arthur and Merlin leave the table. Arthur disagrees, and it gets a bit ridiculous after awhile…

"Well, I'm done with my bowl so I'll have my bread in my room. Enjoy your conversation, boys." Hunith then displays her empty bowl before briskly leaving the room. Silence fills the space between Arthur and Merlin. Instead of talking they are finish their food feeling bitter about the argument. It is completely stupid but they won't own up to it until they move into Merlin's room for a private discussion.

* * *

Confidently the two men put themselves opposite of one another. Arthur is standing with his back pressed against the wall with a perfect view outside of the tiny window. The night sky is dark but the stars brighten it so much that it doesn't even feel late. Merlin is sitting on his bed and is squished into the corner, elbows resting on knees and chin planted in his palms.

"So." Merlin dropped the open-ended word in the air.

"Just get on with it, yeah?"

Arthur doesn't mean to be as harsh as he is but some things are so naturally ingrained that it can't be avoided. Trees outside sway in the wind and he tries recalling if it had been cold during their travels at night. Unfortunately, he was unable to say with certainty because he was so caught up in his mind.

"People have been saying we are in a relationship?" Merlin ponders, "And when they say that they don't mean we are good friends. People think we are in a romantic relationship?"

Reality settles in and weighs Arthur down. Questioning whether or not he blew this entire situation out of proportion, he sinks to the floor. It's cool through the fabric of his trousers. In a way the temperature is refreshing. The floorboards are keeping his emotions in check, only just though.

Merlin still waits for an answer and the prince only gives it to him when he clears his throat. Steadily he nods his head, mumbling almost inaudibly that a handful of princesses floating around him at the banquet were murmuring about the possibility. In a flurry Merlin recounts the numerous times knights joked that Merlin would make a lovely wife.

Precisely that is what stirs Arthur to explain his struggle with the concept, "Hearing strangers make comments has me wondering if the knights were really joking. They couldn't ask me something so personal directly, could they?" Merlin seems to follow along with what he's implying. Silently he makes connections to every incident where there were references to Arthur and Merlin being a couple. Isolating each incident enlightens the mind. Before long he's knit his brows together in curiosity.

"But you've been off for a few weeks. Did you hear it from someone else before that?" Damn Merlin for being so observant. Speaking truthfully, Arthur would not be able to say confidently that this is the only thing that's been on his mind. He could, and does, tell Merlin that he was feeling out of place and alone leading up to the Gratia Sabbati celebrations.

He even tells his manservant plainly that he did not want to let Merlin go out of his own selfish desire to have a friend with him all week. These truths make Merlin giggle a little uncontrollably. Eventually he finds his words again but only to reveal that Merlin has never questioned his feelings for Arthur once.

"You are the only person that matters. Sure, other people mean a lot to me, but I know that we have a future together. You will become king someday and you'll trust even fewer people, but I will always be there for you. There's not a single person I wouldn't let die if it meant seeing you to the destiny written for you." Merlin chooses not to reveal his magic to the young prince. Too much too fast is rarely ever a good thing, and being friends matters more than being a warlock openly.

Peace settles around the two men. Neither explicitly says that they love one another. Neither actually proclaims that there's romantic attraction between them. All the stress melts away as each tucks into their blankets. Merlin insists Arthur take the mattress, since he's accustom to a proper mattress. Defiant as ever, the brunette man pulled all of his bedding from the mattress and set up shop next to the prince. Merlin admires the blond strands of hair covered Arthur's sleepy eyes.

"You need to know that you mean just as much to me, Merlin. There is not a soul in the world I value more." Soon after they both yawn. Eyes are locked onto one another. Even though the do not know where they stand at the present they can find out together. For now all that matters is that they know how special and grateful they are for one another.

* * *

A/N: I wrote this over two days in the first couple of days after Thanksgiving. I got the idea for Holidays with Merthur and somehow decided that this was a good piece. This isn't my proudest work, but I think I've done worse too. I posted it primarily because I wrote it - so it's getting shared. Like I said - judge with kindness in your heart.


	2. A Holiday Kiss

A/N: This one is better, but in the spirit of holiday cheer - let's be positive and enjoy. I aimed for more fluff on this one.

* * *

Snow in Camelot doesn't have the whimsy that Ealdor has during the winter holiday season. Out in the middle nowhere, the piles of snow are the purest whites one can see anywhere. The trails are only disturbed and altered by the few hoof prints of incoming travellers looking for temporary shelter. There is nothing more satisfying than taking in a deep breath of cool air after working through the day. Merlin loves those memories.

In the kingdom, it is very much the opposite. Merlin keeps his head down as he carries three different baskets filled with trinkets and treasures that Arthur's been having delivered and traded in the lower city. Ahead of him, the prince laughs as he waves at people he recognized from the castle. This isn't the first Christmas holiday that Merlin is spending with the Pendragon family, and it likely won't be the last, but it is another in a growing line of holidays where Merlin gets no recognition.

"I barely recognized you, Mathilda!" Arthur comments as a very young maiden passes by. Gwen has been ill for weeks and has not been able to keep up with holiday demands. Mathilda is a teenager a few doors down from Gwen's home, and was recruited to run various errands for Morgana in the lower city. Everyone wins, really: Gwen keeps her job, Morgana still gets help, and Mathilda gets shopping coin for her own family.

Unfortunately, Merlin loses in a way. Arthur flirts with her each time he sees her around – well – anywhere; "You are too kind, my lord." Surely he must have said something complimentary before Merlin's brain began tuning back into his nonsense babbling. Though he would normally keep working and force the prince back on their path, his arms are tiring and needing of a break.

So he pauses and listens coyly to the conversation between the two.

"I only mean to lift your spirits." Arthur reaches out to touch her shoulder but she steps back, bowing as she distances herself. Merlin has not heard anything that would suggest she feels uncomfortable. In fact, the only thing he did hear was that Mathilda is quite shy and taken aback that the prince shows her so much attention. There's been nothing negative or positive said on the matter. Merlin reminds himself to ask Gwen if he sees her later.

Mathilda stays put for only a moment before raising her hand at Merlin, "Lovely to see you, Merlin!" And off she goes. He keeps the baskets on the ground, observing the dirty brown snow littering the alleyways where people generally do illegal trades, or engage in some, erm, _private_ activities. The air smells of firewood and wet clothes. Everything about winter in Camelot exists in exact opposition of the seasons he knew and loved in Ealdor before moving.

"MERLIN!" Arthur barks somewhat unexpectedly. Inevitably he has to yell for his manservant to rejoin his trek back to the castle, however Merlin was not paying attention and the tone of voice did catch him off guard. Scoffing loud enough to make the prince frown, Merlin grabs the baskets once more and begins following again.

Morgana is waiting by his chamber door giggling with Gwen. She immediately invited Arthur to join her on a luncheon planned by the King. Apparently the family proposed a marriage, provided Morgana found their son suitable. She already knows the knight, she explains for too long, detailing each and every possible flaw a man could have in any way. Arthur antagonizes her but chooses to join her, relieving Gwen from her duties early.

Though, she mentioned a need to hang decorations in Morgana and Arthur's shared library. It's not actually a library, of course, because Morgana hides letters she doesn't want to read there while Arthur shoves a variety of unwanted documents in every crevice. The room is really a trash room, but neither Gwen nor Merlin dare joke in such a way. Each of them fears they'd be ordered to clean it up and make it into a library.

Which, unfortunately, is what Merlin knows will ultimately become of this task. He knows this because Arthur insists that the manservant relieve Gwen of this task too. The look of her faces assures him that she suspects this as well, and her holiday kindness dissipates.

"I'll have to do something nice for your birthday." Gwen insists as she passes. If it weren't for her sideways grin and bright eyes he may have swatted at her. Still, he figures there's nothing better than a holiday afternoon free of the prince, and so Merlin remains positive.

Everyone goes their separate ways and Merlin tracks down the decorations needed for the room: garland, mistletoe, ribbons, bows, table covers, and even small dolls made in the likeness of well known kings and queens from Camelot's history. Before he can place any of these things he must make the room presentable. It is without doubt that this will become a busy room as Morgana denies dozens of courtship requests, marriage proposals, and reviews various events to which she is invited.

"The need for privacy," Merlin laughs while stuffing as many papers into bins and crates around the room with as much organization as possible, "As if _they_ need the privacy." Of course, he could understand why Morgana wants to have a place where nobody would bother her. Unlike Arthur, the young woman is always being propositioned for this, that, or the other. Merlin rarely sees Arthur bothered by much other than his manservant's absence.

The prince can't seem to function without him.

Merlin's makes no effort to clean quickly, knowing that when the Prince comes to find him that he'll likely follow up this duty with another. Inevitably it will involve packaging presents, something for which Merlin has no developed affinity. Each year he offers to wrap them in his own chambers but Arthur insists and watching him do it – usually with fresh ale and some stew. He finds the whole ordeal to be comical, apparently.

So once he manages to get the place looking decent enough, he starts with the smallest things. Placing the dolls and table covers takes nearly no time. From there tying bows and placed ribbons _strategically_ does eat more of the minutes from his schedule, but the biggest drain – he plans – is with the garland and mistletoe.

Garland is such a messy piece of work, and Merlin cleans the stables – so to make such a remark, even silently, is quite a large statement to make on the matter. The only benefit that Merlin sees in the whole charade is being able to use his magic. He can place multiple hooks in the walls and furniture without lifting a finger. Of course, he could be doing the same with the garland itself but he mustn't do too much and risk being found out. Thus, he does only the most difficult tasks. Or the most tedious ones, whichever proves to be a bigger bother to the warlock…

Merlin found that he didn't want to leave the library. Hours melted away and not a soul has come to find him. For a few minutes he even celebrated the fact that he wasn't needed for such a long period of time. Oftentimes he feels as if each person he knows wants him at the same time to do various things. He only wishes for a free moment, especially during holidays, because that gives him a chance to spend time alone in the quiet.

For this reason, it was quite some time ago, that Merlin chose to tend to Arthur's gifts in the library as well. The appeal of having a getaway became clearer and clearer each moment that the manservant went uninterrupted by another. It doesn't last as long as Merlin wishes, though. Soon enough the prince comes along to destroy those free hours.

"Why the hell have you stayed in here, Merlin? Where's my supper?" Arthur grumbles airily. Merlin almost feels the relaxation leave his body physically, but manages to smile in total disregard of his frustration.

In a bit of bite, he replies; "I've only done my duties, sire. Would you rather me have wandered off?"

"To the tavern, probably…" Arthur whispers too loudly for it to be a slip up. Merlin wouldn't mind kicking Gaius in the shins a few times for making up the same lie each time he was off _saving someone's life_. The whole of the Knights of Camelot believe that Merlin hides from Prince Arthur in the bloody tavern. This only forces a frown onto Merlin's lips. To hide it he carries many of the prince's gifts to a corner to store in a trunk that has been empty for far too long. Perfect for gift storage and, or, hiding.

Arthur follows, though; "I see that frown, Merlin. Where's your holiday spirit this year? I've not see you excited for Christmas even once since the snow fell."

Images of Ealdor flood his mind, as well as images of his mother packing snow up to throw at Merlin before running off with some stupid task in mind. Sometimes it is a last minute gift; sometimes it was to play with Will. Once it was actually check a trap he'd set up out of town for small game, hoping for something mealy for the holiday. Before he can reply with seriousness in his voice, sarcasm and wit emerge from his lips – not wholly realizing what it is he's saying.

"Can't smile under the mistletoe when I'm alone. Defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" Naturally, Merlin had hung the mistletoe in two places of the room where absolutely nobody should be standing together, lest they were already engaging in more intimate activities to begin with, which means there's one above his very head. How he registers this while thinking of home, he cannot say, but he's already made his comment in haste. He'll pay the consequences as he usually does when mocking and insulting the prince.

Arthur lets out an expectedly and full laugh at the manservant. Together they look at each other, both equally as confused as the other, though both amused. Merlin cannot resist the urge to smile long and lets it begin tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I didn't realize we were under a mistletoe." Arthur remarks, "I guess I owe you an apology."

Merlin's sass, of course, knows absolutely no ends. At exactly no point did he decide to keep his mouth shut. Instead he just snapped with a grin, "Actually, you owe me a _kiss_."

Whatever the reasoning, this breaks so much tension that has been building up over the last few days. Sometimes that's just how it works with the king and his servant. The two are so used to one another that these behaviors occur naturally and without dilution. When Arthur is angry, Merlin cheers him up. When Merlin is angry, Arthur does his very best to piss him off further until he opens up. In the event either of the two is completely happy about something, inevitably the other makes sure to celebrate in kind. Their friendship is natural in many ways, as if there's no other way to live.

Before long Arthur is standing very close to Merlin, scanning his face with a sly smirk on his face. Merlin knows this is the face he uses when he's trying to figure out what to say or do about something he doesn't fully understand. Thankfully, it's not something that is bothering him in a negative fashion. In fact, the prince looks particularly amused.

"How many times must I tell you that you can't talk to me like that?" Arthur reminds the manservant, probably for at least the thousandth time. At least once a week the prince must snap about Merlin's language and tone of voice. The complaints that he speaks to the _crowned prince_ as though he were an _equal_ was absolutely inappropriate, wasn't it? It certainly had to be with the amount of griping that Arthur Pendragon insisted upon doing on the subject.

Merlin lifts a hand up, implying that he may have a thoughtful reply. He doesn't, though, and simply makes a show of shrugging his shoulders. What can the prince do to him? Lordly or not, Arthur Pendragon's confidence could always use a notch or two to level him out. Arrogance gets unattractive at a point.

"Alright, then," Arthur proclaims, hands falling to his sides, "Fine."

Merlin nervously grins. What does the prince mean when he says 'fine?' Before he can even theorize…

Smash. Arthur's face sort of slams into Merlin's face, except not in a playful or jousting fashion. Actually, the prince's lips are pressed to his own. There's no proper kissing, but there's some kind of kissing that's supposed to be happening – Merlin is positive! It takes several long and awkward seconds before Merlin kind of kisses back, unsure if this was a serious act or a pranking one.

Even if it proves to be a prank, he can defend his decision to kiss back as an attempt to prank the prankster. After all, he'd once been in a bit of a war with Leon when the knights went through a dull patch of no activities. Merlin did well for himself, even when he wasn't using his magic to have an edge over his opponent! Though Gaius did scold him for 'cheating.'

Much to his surprise, Arthur kisses back too, though. All of the thinking and justification for his choice becomes irrelevant. This is far too much just to be a trick. Merlin cannot even identify the point at which the pair of them remaining kissing became and honest exchange. It takes quite some time before they do stop.

And when they do they kind of stand there doing nothing.

It ends up being Merlin that breaks the silence, "I do believe that happened – _really_ happened."

Arthur nods in agreement; "That it did, didn't it?"

"Yes, sire."

"Yes."

"So…" Merlin starts, "Shall I get your supper?"

Thinking takes loner than Merlin anticipates, but eventually the prince nods. Nothing more needs to be said, he presumes, and the two carry on their way as normal. All the while he went around gathering food for the Pendragon boy, he asks himself in a dozen ways whether or not he'd always known of his feelings. Was there a time he could identify when he actually became attracted to the prince? Or was that an in-the-moment experience in which he had no idea until it happened upon him that he could be?

Merlin has no idea, and perhaps it's best not to think on it. Clearly Arthur hadn't spent much reflection time on it. Or maybe he has since they've separated. He wouldn't know for sure the stance of his companion until he returns to the chambers. Considering the possibilities makes his heart race while he rushes around.

All his worrying is for naught, though. Setting the table is second nature, even for as clumsy as he is, and during this time he observes the room. It is only to take note of his cleaning tasks during Arthur's dining time, of course, but he does notice one small change about the room. Just above the wardrobe, where Arthur and Merlin argue about what clothing items to pull for the day's activities, there's the smallest of mistletoes hanging. It certainly hadn't been there this morning – Merlin would have had to hang it himself – and this comforts him subtly.

So, it had meant something to Arthur. A quiet something, but definitely something. Merlin watches Arthur emerge from the hallway, a bit pink in his cheeks; "Of all the days for you to get your work done in a timely fashion – today?"

He hides his embarrassment well. It brings a smile to his thin lips.

Maybe celebrating the Christmas holiday in Camelot isn't quite as beautiful and picturesque as all the years he'd spent in Ealdor, but he couldn't deny it was special for a variety of other reasons. There will be nothing more special that this year, Merlin is certain, and he wouldn't trade it for anything really. This is a life worth living. Even if he didn't actually make the choice, all that fate business and what not, but Merlin is sure he would choose this life anyway.

* * *

A/N: I'm thinking maybe a "new year" themed one too, but I'm not sure just yet... Hmmm?


	3. Something Worth Sharing

A/N: I have this modern au ideal of the Pendragon family running a business called Pendragon Industries, in which the family business is being heavily involved in _business._ I've haven't see any other AU concepts like this, but I love it and incorporate it into pretty much every AU interpretation of Merthur.

Below is a meta-esque one-shot on New Year's Eve where Arthur is just kind of thinking about a lot of different things in light of his father's passing and his impending initiation as the new CEO of Pendragon Industries.

* * *

Arthur sits on the edge of his twenty-story building, a smile forced onto his face. _**Flash, and then click.**_ A false selfie for the followers he's amassed as the young and wealthy son of the late-CEO of Pendragon Industries. Tomorrow in the darkness of a late-night New York press conference he will be the new _chief executive officer_ of his father's century old company. Somehow, though, all of the success feels artificial.

 _I never asked for it_ , Arthur silently monologues, _And I don't think I ever would have wanted it if it weren't for the expectation._ Those thoughts aren't completely true, though. Arthur always knew that he would take over the company. Each decision made in his life was on that assumption, and had he adamantly opposed it he would have done so. One of Arthur Pendragon's "schticks" was his inability to do exactly as he's told, always make the less popular decision.

For example, he opted to miss out on the conference downstairs. Many of the highest members of his father's team were somewhere on the third and fourth floors discussing their plans now that Uther has passed away. Arthur has no plans to be a part of any of it, at least not for now. All he wants is a warm cup of peppermint mocha and a moment that belongs only to him.

Growing up a Pendragon garnered it's own level of media attention, but nothing quite like what Uther went through daily. Pendragon Industries started as a small agency that negotiated contracts, but over time it became a massive agency that deals primarily in film contracts. As such, Uther has his hand in nearly every bit of entertainment known across Europe, America, and Australia. Soon, those deals will belong to Arthur.

 _Didn't they always_ , Arthur questions diligently, _they were always mine, weren't they?_

Arthur's phone buzzes nonstop for several minutes. He looks at the screen long enough to clear his notifications. It only takes about fifteen minutes before the hundreds of likes, shares, retweets, reblogs, and pins dissipate. For this reason, it stands out when his buzzes randomly after the flood of social media gratification passes.

This time a text message sits on his screen. The number is familiar, so much so that he knows it as well as he knows his own. A small image of a coffee cup and a peppermint next to a winking face brings a tiny bit of joy to Arthur's heart. Not a single person in the world knew the Pendragon boy quite as well as his personal assistant, Merlin Emrys.

 _Don't know if I could get on without him_ , Arthur supposes to himself, _And I'm not sure I'd want to learn._ In the city below, people who are drunkenly murmuring their goals for the coming year are making grandiose plans. Even people he respects were babbling on about things they want to do that are far from their reach.

Just this morning Morgana le Fay preached to her department that her goal as the new CFO is to set the standard for fair wages across all genders and ethnicities. It wasn't that Arthur had any quarrel with this change, but she'd not even reviewed the financial status of the company. As for her personal assistant Gwen, her goals are far more whimsical. She wants to track down a young man by the name of Lancelot – surely a false name provided in the shadows of a bar. She's sure she's meant to marry him someday.

His best mate, Gwaine, he aimed a bit lower; _"Drink only two pints of ale each day! That's a fair enough goal!"_ Arthur remembers Merlin laughing a bit, whispering to him that Gwain drinks two pints of ale before he gets out of bed, most days. Of course, he has that ability being an Internet star. YouTube has a niche for everyone – and apparently a bartending love guru is something Internet absolutely adores.

Another friend of Arthur's, Leon, he was a bit more realistic than even Gwaine. Though, there really is no way to measure the success of his aspirations. This year he wants to make the people around him stronger. Leon did not specify in what ways he would strengthen his associates, nor did he include details on how he would know if he'd done his job successfully. Arthur wasn't fond of those sorts of goals.

Merlin interrupts his thoughts by nearly topping over once opening the door. For all of his talents, he was equally terrible at a variety of other things. One of those things, it seems, is walking. Arthur turns to check on his assistant only to find him using his magic to hold the drinks in the air. The sorcerer is usually more coy about his skills, but with as drunk as people are tonight they would hardly believe any of his work is real. After all, he's got the perfect guise.

Brilliantly stupid, Merlin ensures that everyone knows that he enjoys doing magic as a hobby. Fortunately, nobody has suspected his magic is real. Arthur is thankful for the things that Merlin does manage to do correctly. Of course, that's not as often as many would expect from a personal assistant. He really is quite terrible at his job compared to Gwen, who serves Morgana flawlessly each and every day.

"You'll kill yourself sitting on that ledge, Mr. Pendragon." Merlin remarks.

"Perhaps that is the point." Arthur rolls back skillfully; having invested a fair bit more of his time in parkour classes than he'd like to admit aloud. Once back on his feet he reaches up to take the cup holder from the invisible force keeping it afloat. Merlin beats him to the punch, though, and keeps Arthur's drink close to his chest.

 _He has to know I like him;_ the comment flutters through his mind and settles in his chest. For months there's been a tension building. Arthur needed to use his assistant's phone after losing his own somewhere in his room. As he was calling it a notification came across the screen. Feeling as though Merlin's life were his own, Arthur clicked the notification. It redirected him to a message with a link inside of it from a friend of Merlin's Will, which redirected him again to a comic.

This comic depicted Arthur and Merlin in a romantic relationship – a fairly explicit romantic relationship. Out of habit, Arthur called for his assistant immediately; _"What is this?"_

" _Will thinks it is funny to send me Merthur fanart, especially at holidays when I'm stuck working for you instead of visiting my family back home. I suspected I'd be getting on of these after our Skype call this morning."_ Arthur then had to know more. Merlin explained what "shipping" people meant – that some people thought certain celebrities belonged together in a relationship, or that they were hiding a relationship from the public. Fan art and fanfiction apparently exists in the thousands of them all over the Internet, and somehow it never once came to Arthur's attention prior to that moment.

" _Does will – eh – ship us?"_ Arthur stupidly asked a question that he should have kept behind his teeth.

" _Very much, actually."_ Merlin seemed a little too enthusiastic about it. Arthur had thought perhaps there was a reason for it. He'd begun theorizing that Will 'shipped' Arthur and Merlin together because Merlin had a secret crush on the Pendragon heir. It wouldn't be the first guy to be interested, and it likely wouldn't be the last. Unfortunately, he'd never had a relationship of any sustenance with anyone for very long. Usually it was just a weekend here, a night there, each filled with fun and sensual activities – never fulfilling and structural relationship. Courtship, as it is properly called, has never crossed Arthur's mind. This is in spite of the many offers, and even attempted arrangements by his own father.

Arthur does his best to hide the breath he sucks in as he steps closer to wrap his fingers around his cup; "I think I deserve a thank you for this, Mr. Pendragon."

"You always have my gratitude," though Arthur knows the statement is a crock of shit. His personal resolution for the year is to express more appreciation for the assistance of others in his life. In particular, he hopes to tackle the feelings he's developed for Merlin. By emoting more he thinks he'll find peace with whatever is developing between them.

Well, _if_ there's anything between them. Arthur has spent months now thinking that Merlin has a crush on him when there's no proof of such a thing. He's never asked his assistant about personal matters, beyond a few things here and there about his parents and weekend plans. For all he knows, this is a one-sided endeavor.

Merlin doesn't let go of the cup, "That's not nearly enough gratitude after working for you under the most ridiculous of conditions for, what, six years now?"

Stepping in more deliberately this time, he drops his jaw into his chest; "Merlin, thank you for all these years of saddening service at Pendragon Industries. I'll request that Morgana include your name in her renegade of fair wage changes."

Merlin flicks the cup away, carefully maneuvering it to a ledge to rest. This was not the moment for sarcasm, apparently. Merlin looks genuinely offended for a moment. Face-to-face now, Arthur silently identifies his coping mechanism rearing it's ugly head at an inappropriate time. Accepting that he's upset his assistant he pulls his gaze up respectfully and makes a second attempt to thank him.

"You are a vital part of my life, Mr. Emrys, and I am lucky to have you on my team. Thank you for all of your hard work and dedication, in spite of the obvious struggles." Arthur can see a twinkling in his friend's eyes. This is more than sufficient enough for Merlin. Though, he laughs a twinge as Arthur begins walking towards his cup on the other side of the roof.

Merlin then announces once Arthur is a few feet away, "I didn't think you'd noticed, thickheaded as you are at time." Once his cup is in his hand he takes a sip, hardly having taken stock of how cold he was until that point. It is probably magic alone keeping his drink warm, too, which warms him emotionally. Merlin cares in the subtlest ways. It only makes the Internet more accurate about his quiet interest in the young man.

"I hadn't noticed what?" Arthur comments, perhaps more dramatically than is necessary. It is in mockery of his friend's proclamation. Of course he hadn't noticed, which was the point of his statement. Merlin means to reveal something that Arthur's missed somehow up until that point. Otherwise, he means to make a joke at the young man's expense. Sorcerer or not, Merlin prefers the jab with words rather than spells.

Yet another reason Arthur appreciations him so greatly.

The wind shifts until it is perfectly still around Arthur. Merlin, clearly, is the cause of the change. He's been testing his skills lately on his ability to alter the weather, though he can only manage it in isolation. Sometimes that's beneficial, but other times it is just a distraction from his real responsibilities. In the center of a controlled bubble, Arthur stands patiently as Merlin milks the pause before the punch line.

Arthur watches his assistant closely. A smile twitches his lips, and his gaze scrambles from Arthur to the ground and back again. He is clearly nervous but not in a bad way. Instead, he seems almost amused by whatever it is he's intending to say. If he is so visibly impressed wit himself then Arthur fears what it is he might be saying. What could be that funny?

Merlin steps into the controlled climate, making the small space a shared one. Arthur stands a few inches taller than his companion, and so he's looking down a bit at Merlin in the awkward silence. The joke should have been done; the pause is too long for whatever he's going to say to even be effective anymore. This is one of the things that Percival complains on and on about when people tell jokes at parties.

"Well, I do a rather good job hiding our relationship in public." Merlin finally breathes up to him.

A hearty laugh powers through Arthur's teeth. Drink still in hand, he gestures at his assistant pointedly; "We are _not_ in a relationship. There's nothing to hide."

"Oh, we've always been in a relationship, Mr. Pendragon. The day you hired me – when I was the least qualified, the least dignified, and the least interested – you picked me when it made no sense." Arthur listens carefully, trying to pinpoint a moment in Merlin's short monologue that might tip him off. But Merlin has a point, and he finalizes it in one sentence, "You never chose me for the job."

Merlin was not wrong. Uther told Arthur to hire a personal assistant, and that if he insisted on being picky he could have each applicant shadow him for a few days. Instead, Arthur copied one of his favorite television shows and brought each qualified applicant to the conference hall. Each was going to be watched and given tasks to complete. For each task completed, it moved their name to the top of an imaginary list. Arthur was just trying to see who would bring the most personality, he supposed at the time, and found that most applicants were little more than kiss-asses that wanted an in with the biggest name in Hollywood.

Somehow, Merlin made it into that group. Word on high was that it was a joke to piss off Arthur. But after nearly three weeks of madness, Merlin was the only one showing up to work each day with a smile on his face and sarcasm to share. He was the only person willing to argue with Arthur, and he was the only one who seemed to stand out among the rest. A dozen times he should be have been removed from the pool for make some publicity nightmares out of Arthur Pendragon.

Still, Arthur insisted upon Merlin Emrys. He was the perfect fit in ways that Arthur couldn't explain. Uther never argued the point, though, and merely insisted that Arthur consider making his life a bit more private as the result of his hiring decision. This was advice that Arthur could have used anyway, so never once did Arthur think hiring Merlin was a bad choice. For years it was the only choice he could have imagined in that scenario.

"I chose you for the job…" Arthur began, eyes tilting just slightly to include Merlin's lips in his view, "…but I may not have realized that I was looking for more than a personal assistant."

"You have an odd way of finding friends." Merlin comments. The dent in the young man's lip disappears the moment he grins. It is a distinct feature about him that Arthur has come to enjoy, as has the Internet. In fact, there have been tags and pieces of art dedication specifically to Merlin's lips. For being nothing more than a personal assistant, he gets a ton of publicity.

It used to confuse him as to why people cared so much about Merlin as a person. Now it makes sense, though. He has never been seen as a staff member to Arthur Pendragon, but rather an equal. Merlin has always been an extension of himself, a part of his life, and an equal in every aspect. Arthur exists in the media only alongside his personal assistant…

Which now starts sounding far more sexual that Arthur realized previous to that moment...

"I mean for you to be more than a friend, Merlin." Arthur declares simply. Victory decorates the sorcerer's face. Magic couldn't make him more attractive than he is to Arthur in that exact moment. Thousands of people are falling in love, getting engaged, having sex, or meeting the person of their dreams for the first time – everywhere. The phenomenon of finding romantic gratification on New Year's Eve is endless and worldwide. Arthur knows that no matter how special this moment feels to him, it is as generic as stories come. Somewhere, he thinks, someone may have already written a story very much like this very real one.

Arthur takes a hand away from his cup and uses it to pull Merlin into him, hand starting at his shoulder and working its way up to his neck. Moments flicker away into the wind swirling outside of their small paradise of calm. Nothing could make more sense that this to Arthur, and so he leans cautiously into his assistant, friend, and sorcerer.

And he kisses him.

For all the magic that exists within Merlin, none of it was ever going to be required for Arthur Pendragon to fall in love with him. Simply by existing the two were destined to be together, he thinks. Nothing could be more right than Arthur and Merlin.

Nothing can be more right than Merthur, as the Internet calls it.

And Arthur is absolutely okay with that: "You do a fantastic job of keeping it secret, by the way. But I don't think that's necessary anymore."

 _ **Flash, and then click.**_

Another picture for the Internet to like, share, retweet, pin, reblog, and whatever else will become of the image.


	4. A Holiday Away?

It wasn't Merlin's idea. It really wasn't.

But Gwen blurted it out in a fussy bit of laughing when they were arguing over whether Merlin ever properly enjoyed time off from the castle. It was rare that Merlin and Arthur were not together, and when it did happen one of the two of them was kidnapped. Inevitably, Arthur always found his way to Merlin and visa verse. Gwen was so irritated that Arthur insinuated that Merlin didn't earn time off that she couldn't contain how ridiculous it sounded.

" _He does everything for you!"_ Merlin had agreed silently in his head with absolutely no expression suggesting that he agreed. That was the best way to go about these types of conversations. Merlin wondered in silence what was going on between them.

" _He has to be asked a dozen times to do anything!"_ Merlin did not dispute this point either because it was true, but only because the king ordered a good many things all at once. There was no way he could do it all, right? Of course he would have to ask more than once! Merlin remained silent, carrying on with the dinner to be served that night.

She put her hands in her lap, _"Gwaine invited him away for a few days. I don't suppose you'd let him go, then, if he asked? Because he is so insufferably terrible at his job and a break from him couldn't possibly make sense?"_ There was something about her voice that captured his attention. Arthur realized that Gwen seriously meant that she was appalled at his whining. Merlin has forgotten what caused the fight to begin with, and he wasn't planning on thinking on it any further until he returned to Camelot.

Unfortunately, Arthur is standing outside of the pub right now with his arms crossed and rain pouring over his head. Gwaine is doing his best not to chuckle while he throws back gulp after gulp of ale. Merlin frowns, "Why is he here?"

Gwaine pulls his pint away and dares to stand, only to fall back down; "Celebrating Saint Patrick was never something Uther Pendragon valued. Few kings this side of the ocean see it worth their time – an Irish tradition, they ramble."

The only one rambling, of course, is Gwaine. Yet Merlin makes no effort to cease his words. They may eventually be of value, perhaps when he makes a point; "I celebrate it with drinking because there's always a holiday worth drinking over. As for Arthur, if he were celebrating it back in Camelot then it is a feast. We both know that Arthur Pendragon doesn't feign interest in a feast."

When Merlin first met Arthur, when he was just a prince freshly crowned and learning his role beneath his father, he did actually enjoy the feasts. Of course, he was more interested when they accompanied festivals. Feasts trapped in the coldest months with no activities to better occupy him; Arthur took to pranking his fellow knights and causing all sorts of drama amongst the drunkest of guests. Gwaine would have been a victim of his back then. Now they're equals, though, in a way. Gwaine serves him in whatever he requests.

"There were no plans for a feast in Camelot to my knowledge. I think he'd have complained once or twice if there were…" Merlin admits to his friend. Arthur Pendragon would do what he must to maintain appearances socially but he was no the type. Gwen would be the cordial spouse, and she would plan the gatherings as best needed to suit the requirements of a Kingdom's reputation holding strong.

Gwaine points outside the window, "He has come on his own volition. He doubts himself. Why else would a king stand in the cold rain of a delayed spring?"

So Merlin recalls what actually started Gwen on her tangent, the one that gave him a week away from Camelot…

Arthur had told that if she did not wish to have a handmaiden he would take a second servant. Merlin thought it was a joke, but then he gestured to the weaponry that still sat at the door and dishes from that afternoon's meal, which remained at the far end of their table.

Truthfully, he'd felt bad for not getting to those tasks earlier in the day but Gaius had pulled him aside for some assistance with brewing. The sort that required a bit _more_ than he could offer, if Merlin has to ever explain himself to anyone. He would let them believe he means strength so that he didn't have to tell them the truth: _magic._

Gwen shook her head; _"The duties of a queen are so small since there's not been one for so long, so I can help him with his work. It is not beneath me."_ She was the queen that Camelot needed. She is the queen that Camelot needs. It was ridiculously kind and impossible to believe when she suggested she would help with Merlin's work. His mind ran circles. It's how he forgot about the transition to a more aggressive tone.

Arthur's voice dropped low, _"They are not your responsibilities and I won't have you doing them. You are not allowed to help him."_

Gwen asked what it is he does for himself besides train. She went as far as to ask when he last made a decision without Merlin's input. He was so enamored by Gwen being such a great woman that he'd barely heard her insinuate Arthur's thinking isn't entirely his own.

" _My quests are not his. My responsibilities are not his. I am the King and I do what I must to rule my lands. Merlin has no say in how I lead Camelot!"_ Arthur could make choices alone, though they were often foolish and uneducated. Merlin's existence is to save him from his own stupidity, it felt at times, but he was able to make wise decisions without help just as well. Gwen sat at that table knowing that she was lucky to be there, but knowing that she Arthur remain so arrogant and ungrateful.

That's when she remarked that Merlin is Arthur's keeper and that he does all that the young king needs. Merlin sits next to Gwaine patiently. He is drinking and drinking through the quiet that is building.

"I am going to go ask him, actually." Merlin decides. Getting off of the stool proves to be the most difficult task. He has to push hard against the wood of his seat before accepting that Arthur has somehow managed to track him down. Unless he'd been following the entire time, of course, which didn't seem impossible. Had Merlin not done the same many times?

Once he's on his feet, without a drink in his hand, he races to the door with his coat. Merlin doesn't bother to put it on, and instead leaves it by the door. Arthur is brilliant, but it is unlikely he's brought a change of clothes with him. Once outside he drags Arthur to the door and helps him wring his clothes out. Once he's dry enough to go inside Merlin escorts him to the stairs, "I am taking him to our room," he shouts to Gwaine.

It is unlikely he'll ever make it back to the room anyway.

Once they get the door closed Arthur rushes to get out of his wet clothes. Merlin offers him trousers to go with his coat. It should suit Arthur until morning. From there, perhaps there is a village nearby that Gwaine knows of that the three of them can go to shop for fresh garments. Arthur moves as nimbly as one would expect a knight to be, but falls to nearest cot with a thud unlike any other.

"I don't know why I've come here." Arthur admits in a loud and amused tone; "Gwen was sat in bed next to me reading a book from the library. It was the history of Camelot."

Merlin grins, "She will make a perfect queen."

"She already is perfect." Arthur sighs to the ceiling. There's something about it not full. There is a lacking in his tone that worries Merlin. It draws him closer to the king and once he is closer enough he locks onto his gaze; "And I thought that I should be here instead of there? Gwen is absolutely perfect!"

"Well, sometimes she complains about you when you're not in the room. Once she even whispered complaints about you to me under the guise of taking a drink of wine." Merlin dares to share these small imperfections hoping to give Arthur the feeling of equality to his wife. It does no such thing.

Arthur groans about Gwen impressing everyone she meets, groans about the love she shares with every single person working in the castle, and the inspiration she gives to others simply by proving she has a place in the castle as nobility. Then he complains of her fiery spirit, the one thing that always made her differ from other suitors. Arthur complains of the way she gave Merlin time off without his approval.

Merlin waits for him to stop talking, and waiting seems to take all night. Occasionally he comments in somewhat agreement with the king. Sometimes he almost falls asleep while the king goes on and on, but he still gets the point of it. Arthur just can't stop talking about all the things about Gwen that are amazing, annoying, and alluring. At the end of all his gabbing, though, he rolls on his side and asks Merlin a stupid question to conclude the madness of following him all the way out in the middle of kind-of-nowhere: "Why am I here?"

"I don't know." Merlin comments, "So Gwaine told me about this Saint Patrick…" Maybe there is something about this man that could help the two friends decide what brings Arthur all this way. Away from his castle… Away from his knights… Away from his wife…

There really is not much to tell. Merlin shares what little he's gathered. A patron saint responsible for converting Ireland, not even his homeland, away from paganism hosted by druids. Christianity became their religion of choice, and the success of such is credit to Saint Patrick. He was a good man, Gwaine insists, for lifting a few bans on the day of the feast. One of those restrictions being alcohol consumption, wouldn't one guess? It is a holiday he intends to celebrate each year, until eventually he dies on it. Gwaine swears he will die during a Saint Patrick's Day celebration.

Merlin hopes that he does because it is precisely how Gwaine wishes to go, and how he deserves to as well.

"You do know I was aware of this, right?" Arthur scoffs, playfully as he usually does, before jumping up on his cot and pushing himself towards Merlin. Soon he sits next to his manservant and pats his lower back, "I am not as stupid as you think I am, Merlin."

A laugh jumps from his mouth unwillingly, "Nor am I, my lord."

Arthur wears a lopsided grin that always lifts Merlin's spirits.

Whatever the _real_ reason Arthur came – he is glad for it.

* * *

A/N: I intentionally left the ending of this very open. It can be interpreted as BROTP or OTP.  
I apologize that it's not *more* about the holiday, but I think sometimes the idea of a holiday has a way of bringing people together and strengthening relationships.


	5. Freedom For All

Days like this are rare. Sunshine warms the surface with love and generosity, giving the soil what it needs for a healthy harvest in the fall months. A breeze with no rush to reach its destination brushes against the cheeks of Camelot's citizens lazily and without care. Though it's not invasive, it balances the heat reaching its tendrils down from the clear skies.

The whole city smells of baked goods and fresh brews. The trade market is bustling with travelling merchants and neighboring traders coming for the celebration. Not a face goes without a smile in the lower city, distant relatives visiting and new business opportunities bringing them the joy they'd forgotten in the winter months; but Merlin breaks the pattern.

A frown rips the corners of him lips down towards the earth, threatening to steal the jaw from his face. Each summer they celebrate something that means to cast shame and darkness over exactly people with magic – people exactly – like – him. No, Merlin refuses to feign happiness. Too many years he's pretended to be happy when he should have defended his kind.

Merlin lays wile reading a book in his chambers, the door cracked just slightly in the event that Gaius should need his assistance, but he means to avoid any tasks related to the preparation of the feats and jousts and whatever else Arthur would have him to do to give a platform to the hate that defines him as the enemy. Call it rebellion; call it pride; call it being a clot pole – Merlin doesn't care. Not this year!

But Gaius never calls to him. He works, muttering occasionally and knocking about his supplies. At some point a knight comes looking for Merlin, but it is not on Arthur's request, and there no reason to believe the matter was urgent. In the end, neither Gaius nor Merlin made his presence known. In fact, it seems as if Gaius really doesn't know that King's manservant is hiding away in his bedroom.

Of course, he's more than a manservant.

Merlin is a sorcerer too.

And, in his defense, sorcerers need rest as much as anyone else.

His eyes begin fluttering shut when a second knight shows up. This time the voice was more familiar, distantly belonging to Gwaine. Merlin trusts the unpredictable man enough, but he's just as loyal of a knight as he is a friend. Unsure what is the best choice Merlin makes no choice and waits to see the consequences. After this curious mind, though, Gaius peers into the young warlock's bedroom.

"What are you doing in there, boy," Gaius scolds with a grave expression on his face. "Do you know that Arthur has half the royal guard searching for you?"

 _And nobody thought to check my cot,_ Merlin questions in his mind.

"He doesn't need tablecloth in the dinning room that badly," Merlin he sits up there is a grave look about Gaius. It's not the sort of look he gives when Merlin uses his magic recklessly or when he turns down food he doesn't like even if he is starving. Those times where he's too immature for words garner a different look from the elderly physician and known sorcerer himself. Well, not anymore anyway. Merlin drops his gaze.

Gaius shakes his head and remarks lowly, "Arthur doesn't like this any more than you do, Merlin, and you know as much. He is trying to be the ruler his father was because he protected his people for a long time. More than his own values, the King wants to keep Camelot safe for the people that knows matter most." If there were a truer thing said of Arthur Pendragon, surely Merlin would have known of it. Gaius is right but it doesn't make it anymore hypocritical to celebrate an even that would see Merlin killed. He didn't even choose magic.

Magic chose him.

Standing on his wobbly legs with a creak in his body so deep that he nearly sits back down and ignores the words of his guardian. Still, the right thing to do is to go speak with Arthur and apologize for his absence. Perhaps he'll find his life on the way?

* * *

Gwen is walking through the halls, her brow furrowed and her hands working furiously to find something inside of her wicker basket. Judging by the fact that the clothes inside are _obviously_ Arthur's, Gwen has been tasked with Merlin's chores until he reappeared. He grabs the basket as he passes and gives her thumbs up. Nothing more needs to be said before she starts jogging down the hall to return to whatever else she needs to tend. Oftentimes she works along the kitchen staff during these celebrations.

Though he isn't fully himself, somewhat brooding still that people would be excited to revel in the absence of something as beautiful as magic, he is smiling. Arthur has that sort of pull over him, doesn't he? Merlin's highest highs and lowest lows usually come from something Arthur's done, seeing as their fates are tied together and all. Merlin pushes the door open and waits for whatever Arthur has in his hand to come flying.

Maybe just a little spell to deflect it wouldn't hurt? Gaius would be frowning if he knew the thought crossed his mind. "Merlin!"

Arthur's voice is a growl, anger tinged with surprise. He doesn't throw anything today. Instead he crosses his arms over his chest and stares blankly as the servant. A free hand rises to tussle his black hair while he holds the basket at his side. "Gwen just left with those to clean my best tunic. Why are they back in my chambers?"

"I passed her on my way in and took them. I wanted to come apologize," Merlin tried his best not to…

"Why are you smiling?" Arthur demands, his smile turning sideways with curiosity. He steps closer and closer until the distance between them shrinks from half a room to an arm's length. His eyes trace Merlin top to bottom and back again. "You're in so much trouble for disappearing _again_. What is there to smile about?"

Merlin considers his answer, kind of.

"You, sire," Merlin says, "I like your face when you're pretending to be mad that I'm a terrible servant."

Dumbfounded, Arthur reaches up to smack Merlin for his sass. Without knowing that his magic would flare, though, Merlin lifts and bends to avoid it. Though he has a great deal of control of his magic, even the best warlocks sometimes let go enough for it to work independently. Arthur get's pushed back so that his hand swishes through the air – missing Merlin entirely. Horror pierces his gut and bleeds into his entire body with a rush.

"W-what was that?" Arthur questions. "What just happened?"

It appears that he was stricken too. Merlin and Arthur, the King and his manservant, two sides of the same coin; they just watch each other with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

And then Merlin dares, "What was what?"

"How did you…"

Merlin drops the basket before Arthur ever finishes his thought. He knows that there's no time to return to his quarters to pack so he just runs wherever he can think to hide. Gwen's is out because they're such good friends. Gwen will stow nearly everyone away if she cares for them or their well-being. None of the knights would listen if Arthur said the word 'magic' in his call for capture.

So, the last place that Arthur would ever look in all of Camelot? For Merlin?

There's only one place.

* * *

Nobody knows about the storage attic above the stables. It's always been there but nobody uses it because there's a barn attached to the stables now. It is unlikely than anyone has spent enough time in the stables mucking them out to realize it is still open. Merlin snagged some blankets from the alleys on his way down for warmth through the night. He is officially a criminal in the eyes of the King.

It wasn't even on purpose that he revealed his magic. And it wasn't even really in an obvious way. It could've been a push were there others in the room – laughing and distracting the King from the actual events taking place. Instead, the privacy allowed him to see and experience everything. Merlin regrets ever having a tantrum about the celebrations in the first place. Had he done his job then he wouldn't be huddling in the corner of a stable attic breathing the foul air from horse dung below.

Since his magic is no secret now, he may as well use it to protect himself.

 _Sigillum caeli –_

 _Ostium clausum –_

 _Praesidium elementis –_

And the most important one, he thinks as he grabs a bucket he had stashed away up here in case he needed a wash when tending the horses –

 _Aquae copia._

As for food, Merlin will have to be smart about it until he can escape Camelot. He can't go back to Ealdor because Arthur will look there first. Perhaps he could find refuge in Essetir? Merlin knew that the King did not favor the Pendragon family – _and_ – they hold magic tournaments, he's heard. He could live openly and perhaps find himself a place where he could get recognition for his skills.

Could he make an enemy of Arthur? His best friend? His other half?

Oh, what a mistake he's made.

* * *

Arthur never sends the guard for Merlin, unsure of what order he would issue. What crime had he committed?

"Magic," Arthur declares to only himself. His forehead is pressed against the glass of his private quarters. Surely someone is looking for him but he's ordered a guard post at either end of the hallway to prevent any contact. The only person allowed through, should he return, is Merlin.

Merlin – has – magic?

It's not a question. He absolutely does. He has to. How else could he push Arthur away without touching him? Dodge a blow to the head when he's not even trained to maneuver any sort of physical confrontation? Merlin is a clumsy as they come. He has magic; he _absolutely_ has magic.

He can't tell the knights to search for Merlin under the guise that he's not been seen because Gwen saw him. Gaius likely saw him. Someone has seen him today. It would be suspicious to have him searched for without him having gone missing properly. In the past, he went all day without someone laying eyes on him. Of course, he's the King, so he can order anything for any reason and it can't be questioned.

"No," he decides, "I have to deal with this on my own. Nobody can know. Nobody can suspect."

So – where does a secretly magical manservant go if he doesn't want to be found by a King hosting a celebration honoring the rule of Uther Pendragon _and_ the damnation of magic as exclusively evil? Well, Merlin could be anywhere.

The tavern, the market, the dungeons, leagues away from Camelot…

"Or," Arthur wonders, "he might be hiding somewhere he thinks I'd never go."

And that's how Arthur starts making his way to the stables.

* * *

Merlin feels his presence before he makes it known. Through a crack in the floorboards of his attic space, he peers down at Arthur pacing. It seems as though he is deciding what to say, so he just keeps repeating Merlin's name.

"Merlin," he coos calmly.

"Merlin," he says, letting the words fall flatly from his lips on the dirty floor.

"Merlin," he sighs.

"Merlin," he says.

"Merlin," he says.

"MERLIN!" he yells.

 _Nolite magicae._

Whether Arthur feels the spells dissolve is unknown, but apparently he knows about the attic. Almost as quickly as the enchantments are gone, he begins climb the ladder. Merlin jerks his head back in surprise but doesn't move. He pulls the blanket from his lap and prepare for whatever he must in order to escape with his life. Until Arthur sees Camelot to it's future there's still a need for Merlin to be alive.

Arthur raises his hands as he crouches into the space, "No weapons," he offers. "I just came to talk."

Merlin doesn't move and he doesn't let his guard down. He doesn't even speak. The air between them is as thick as the scent of dung coming from below. Arthur's discomfort at it is obvious but his focus never leaves that of Merlin. Tension builds until Arthur breathes audibly, "Merlin, please."

* * *

 _Dear people of Camelot, we are gathered here today to remember the work of Uther Pendragon to rid our lands of an evil that tempts us in our weakest moments. In these following days let us celebrate a land without magic, a land without torment, and a land free of wrongdoers who would trick us before help us. Magic is the root of all that is evil, and today we revel in our freedom such tyrannical practices._

* * *

Merlin reads the speech with grinding teeth. The instant Arthur catches him looking over the words he fought hard to produce. In spite of magic taking both parents from him, Arthur has not been shy of using it in the past. Magic has its consequences but no differently than war. Most everything has a cost.

"You know what I have done contradicts the word on that page," Arthur groans in defeat. Was he no less a hypocrite than his father? To use magic only when it appeals to him… and what of all of the times Merlin would've used magic to save him when he wasn't looking…

How much of his success isn't even his own?

Merlin's voice indicates he is smiling. "I know, Arthur. You are not your father. That is not your destiny." Tension builds again, just as it had done in the stables, but this is stronger somehow. Each man is watching the other carefully, unsure what will be said or done. Nothing is changed between them, not really, but somehow it is different. In the last few hours the roles have been reversed. Merlin doesn't need to protect Arthur from this revelation, but rather Arthur needs to protect Merlin from those who would criticize Arthur's hypocrisy as weakness and dishonesty to the people.

Realistically, though, they need to protect each other.

That much had not changed.

"Why did you keep something of this measure secret? I could've helped you!" Arthur hisses, though it is not an energetic tone and it falls short. Exhaustion from his days as king and soldier alike are evident in his features, his body. Merlin is similar, though, because he hunches against a chair and lets his features smooth over in somber acceptance.

What was there to help? "I was born with it, my lord. I cannot simply stop having it because I am defined by it. The magic is as much a part of my as my blood and skin and bones. There is no help to be had, sire."

Arthur laughs, "Stop with the formalities, Merlin, there's clearly no need for it. You could see me dead on the floor before I could draw my sword." Though he should have sounded offended, scared, or angry, instead he simply sounds amused. Perhaps he's even pleased that Merlin has done no such thing. The desire never existed, not really.

Silence returns to the room and so they fall into a common routine. Merlin prepares the table with two glasses of fresh water. He picks out a clean outfit from the closet, one fitting for a King who will tend meetings with the court and the royal guests from neighboring kingdoms. Arthur keeps pace, moving in his usual patterns as well. While Merlin dresses him, though, he tries to revive the conversation.

"I do not care any less for you," he whispers, "but I am hurt that you would lie. You've watched me begin to doubt and distrust magic, only to question my judgment. You watched my father die to magic. Why would you keep me in the dark about what you could do?"

Timid as he seemed, Arthur does turn around and grab Merlin by the soldiers. "I've trusted you! All of these years!"

Heartbeats are quiet but they can be felt. A tremble in the room from their racing hearts and rapid breathes leave both men at a loss for words. Merlin waits to see if Arthur has more to say and Arthur waits to see if Merlin has anything to say at all. With neither party making any remarks, however, only one thing can be said.

"Get out."

And then again.

"GET OUT!"

* * *

Gaius watches Merlin packing his belongings from the entrance. His body moves with great anguish. Arthur has not set for the young man's arrest but what he's done is far worse. It is precisely what Merlin expected, as did Gaius, and it has come to play out precisely as they feared.

It wasn't even something Merlin could control, by the sounds of it, which pained Gaius even more.

"He has not banished you," Gaius reminds him.

Merlin shakes his head, "He would not take any action against me. It would make him look foolish."

Gaius takes his attention off of Merlin. There's a soft knocking outside of the door but it's not an actual knock on the door. Unsure what it might mean, he cracks it open and peers outside. Just to the left at the bottom of the stairwell is none other than Arthur Pendragon.

Seconds pass by as he debates approaching the King. Would Merlin notice his absence? Would he come to check on him? What would he even say? Before he can convince himself to remain inside, he's walking towards Arthur anyway.

"Sire," he begins, "I suppose you've come for Merlin?"

Arthur nods.

"He is packing to leave."

Arthur nods again.

"Do you not wish to stop him?"

Arthur shrugs, "He lied. You lied. What can I do if not let him go?"

Gaius uses the young Pendragon's shoulder to balance himself, settling on the steps beside him. A weakness that plagues the King is his inability to see past the black and white options before him. Rarely does he consider that there is a compromise. There is also a third option if one looks hard enough for it. "Forgive him, my lord, and make the changes you must so that he can remain by your side."

* * *

Arthur strides into Merlin's personal quarters confidently, though with a swift and soft step. When he closes the door he ensures that it is locked as well. Merlin is standing with his knapsack and a familiar staff.

The blood drains from Arthur's face, but he cannot feel anymore defeated than he does already. "My god, Merlin, you sentenced my father to death too?" Merlin is crying before he finishes the thought. There is much he has had to keep private; much he's had to bear in silence. His only confidante being Gaius…

"Arthur, I have only ever used my magic to help you. What happened to your father was not my intention. I had no clue what was at work! I thought trying to save him would help you see magic is not only evil!" Merlin crumbles against his bedside table, reaching his free hand up to cover his face as he sobs.

At first the King doesn't do anything at the sight of his manservant breaking down. Their entire friendship, real as it is, seems to be less and more than Arthur ever considered. Merlin has been living a life where he can't be himself. He chooses to live in a kingdom that would see him executed for his magic. Arthur's friendship is more important to him than even himself.

Nobody, not even Gwen, has ever been so obliged to value him so highly.

Was he even worth such loyalty?

"Merlin," Arthur's soft voice manages before stepping into the young warlock, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. One hand is on the back of his head, holding him in place to keep him from shaking away from his grip. Though it is not instant but Merlin finds comfort in the King's arms. He returns the gesture by wriggling to put his arms around Arthur's waist.

And there they stand – in an embrace that brought with it a fresh sort of tension. Though it was familiar to the men, it had never been shared between them, and all they can do is remain. Whatever comes of this new revelation, they will overcome together.

* * *

 _Dear people of Camelot, we have gathered her today to begin the traditional celebrations implemented by my father. He took control of Camelot and gave them the independence that he believed it needed from magic, and though these beliefs have served Camelot well – I want to take action to amend his tradition._

 _Today marks a positive change for Camelot. I want to make this a land of true freedom, one of just freedom, and one where no man, woman, or child should feel the victim of unfair laws. Today marks a new tradition._

 _In spite of what my father believed about the evils of magic, as your new King I must refute those values and see the good that can come from magic too. Today marks a new celebration, and the beginning of a new era in which magic will no longer bear the penalty of death unless used with malice._

 _Let us begin anew and enjoy those who have travelled to share in the love that can be found in Camelot forevermore._

* * *

A/N: Sorry that I've not kept up with this. I'm hoping to change that and aim for major holidays / holiday concepts at the very least. This is supposed to be an Independence Day / Revolution idea stemming from the idea of the Fourth of July (which I know Europe does not have). But many countries do celebrate their independence or a shift to a new leader. So I thought with it being canonical that Uther holds feasts and celebrations for things he thinks are important - this seemed super appropriate and I hope I did the story justice.

If you're still reading - thank you!


	6. Brass Knuckles & Baes

Arthur Pendragon, the martial arts instructor at the community center, asked Merlin if he wanted to join some of his buddies hopping around the haunted houses in the area over the weekend. They had a schedule and a plan to hit at least three per day. Initially, Merlin turned him down.

 _"I don't have that kind of cash right now, I'm helping my foster dad pay bills,"_ Merlin had recited to him countless times in the span of three days. Gaius was an elderly man working in a pharmacy who took Merlin on at the special request of his mother. She became quite ill when he was twelve and would no longer be able to care for him. Ealdor Estates is a nursing home upstate from him, and he makes sure to visit her at least once a month when he can afford the drive, but mostly the Dementia made it difficult to have any true quality time together.

Arthur was a good guy, though, and eventually threw his hands in the air. He makes a ridiculous amount of money doing classes and private lessons off-site. Besides that, he's a Pendragon: he comes from a wealthy family. So he looks Merlin dead on after a couple of days, slams a hand on his head and tussles his hair, before declaring, _"All expenses paid, you sod, I swear it!"_

At that point, Merlin offered to consider it.

Gaius wouldn't mind a day spent quietly in his study, reading with a friend or two he'd known from his days as a physician at the hospital. They'd chat about old times over bitter coffee and laugh about the 'good ole days.' It wasn't a weekend he had planned to spend with his mom either, and so the more he thought on it – the more he considered the invitation seriously.

It was ultimately Gwaine, from the bistro on the main floor of the community center, whom convinced Merlin to just tag along. _"We're all going, and Arthur refuses to ride along with anyone else. He trusts you and really wants you to come."_ In spite of the background and upbringing Arthur Pendragon had, he was a decent fellow. Merlin started working at the community center as a part-time employee when he was sixteen, and Arthur had been nineteen at the time. Their friendship was an odd sort of one, since Merlin's responsibilities were mainly just to clean the second floor classrooms and run errands for the upstairs staff.

Arthur razzed him hard and often but their relationship became friendlier with time, and by the time Merlin had taken his own position in reception, the pair were quite close. More than once they'd hung out for lunch and dinner after work, since their shifts usually matched almost perfectly. Still, inviting Merlin to spend the entire weekend with him was quite the step up.

Sure – they were nearly inseparable at work – Arthur finding any reason to make his way to main desk to chat with good pal. Sure – Merlin often repaid the favor by constantly calling Arthur's personal phone to ask him ridiculous questions about the various messages he ignores from parents in his email. The idea of that carrying over into their personal life, however, seemed absolutely strange.

But Gwaine had a point. Merlin and Arthur were great friends, regardless if it only seemed to be at work. That's the only place they spent their time outside of home anyhow, so their bond had to be legitimate. Merlin ran into Arthur in the locker room when he was packing up – and Arthur asked again, _"I need to know if you're coming or not. If I have to clean out my car – it's going to day at least a day. Are you in?"_

 _"Sure, why not? How scary can a haunted house gimmick be, anyway?"_

At the time, Arthur had looked a bit dodgy about the comment, but Merlin thought it was more to hype their plans than anything. He never would have guessed that Arthur Pendragon – teacher of all things martial arts – bringer of all pain through pranks – ignorer of all emails – would be _honest to goodness_ scared of haunted houses.

* * *

Merlin agrees to go home with Arthur after work, and it wasn't a brand new experience as he'd gotten rides home from Arthur in the past. Despite being nineteen, Merlin had to share his car with Gaius which meant he usually walked to work from the Pharmacy ten blocks away each morning. After awhile, instead of paying Gaius the fuel costs of driving back to town, Arthur just started offering him rides. But, of course, only after he helped him clean the house up before his dad came back from his business trip.

Suddenly the idea of being hesitant to spend time with Arthur outside of work seems silly. They did things outside of work. It just usually felt, well, like more work. When they walk inside, a lot his nerves and unrest wash away. There's a strong scent of burnt cheese filling the air. Arthur scoffs.

"Ugh, Morgana must be home."

Merlin has heard plenty about Arthur's sister, Morgana. She was his half-sister who went off to college about the same time Merlin started at the center. The pair of them rarely get along but they do a good job keeping up appearances, the way Arthur talks. Even Gwaine and Percival remark that the pair of them behaves as proper siblings most of the time.

But that charade stops when nobody important is watching. "What the hell are you mucking up now, 'Gana?"

She sputters out about how she's been cooking and crying about something happening at school, and it sounds very tragic. Merlin consoles her while Arthur nods along and agrees. Soon after he tells her off, though, in a brash sort of fashion. "Instead of crying about it why don't you actually _do_ something about it instead? You always come home and burn out food when you're upset and I'm right sick of it. Can't you burn something in the microwave at school for cheaper?"

Their conversation dies soon afterwards. Morgana criticizes him for being so blind to the limitations of the social structure in a college, and that she can't mess up in her final year. Arthur tosses a bottle of water at Merlin and then grabs a sack of snacks before marching ahead of him and gesturing up the flight of stairs.

"I want to head out to a local haunted house the boys are skipping. I figure we can warm up and then come back to hit the hay. Don't want to be here too long with _her_ wandering around interrupting every single thought we have…." Secretly, Merlin expects, Arthur loves his sister dearly. They each have their respective mother's strongest features and personalities, but their bullheadedness comes from their father, Uther, and it shows nearly all the time… especially when they're interacting…

Merlin follows behind him, glances all around the house at the things he's seen before but never really _seen_ before, and he's in awe every step of the way. Arthur wasn't just 'well off,' he was properly wealthy. Merlin felt ashamed to be so poor in his presence. "Sure," he agrees, hoping just to get back out of the house again before he starts comparing their entire lives side-by-side.

* * *

Arthur is shaking in line, jumping, and taking huge breaths and blowing them out aggressively while they wait in line. Merlin finds it peculiar but doesn't say anything. As they get closer to the haunted house, there's a sign that says that people may go in groups for two, three, or four people. Since nobody else came with them, Arthur and Merlin stand next to each other to indicate that they're a group of two. All the while, Arthur is putting on his 'game' face, apparently.

"Gotta be ready for anything," he declares flatly when the usher gestures for them to join her on the platform. After she recites her usual warnings the two are given the clear to enter. As soon as they plunge into darkness, Merlin feels Arthur reach into his pocket and rustle his hand around.

The early parts of the Haunted House are mild enough with the usual spooks. Lights flashing on and off, doors creaking, creepy music starting when you enter and leave a room, nothing horrible at all. Once they reach the maze of mirrors, though, well, Arthur gets jumpy when the various 'monsters' start showing up in the reflections. At one point he moves as if he is going to take a swing at one of them.

When Merlin bumps into Arthur, he reaches up to neck and pulls him in close so that he'll hear him clearly, "Take my hand, dude, because you're definitely going to hurt yourself if you keep this up." Arthur nods curtly and offers his left hand to Merlin, who takes it quickly and guides him out of the mirrors. As it would appear, Arthur Pendragon might be some a master martial artist but he's scared to death of Haunted Houses.

They get out of the house and find themselves in yet another maze. It's a fairly large hay maze. Sometimes there's a large group of people still wandering, and so Merlin and Arthur find themselves getting pulled apart when they run into them. By accident they do get separated, so instead of trying to get out, Merlin figures it makes more sense to track Arthur down – because he's probably panicking.

It doesn't take long. The martial artist can be heard doing his 'hiyas' at least a mile away. As Merlin draws closer and closer he moves faster and faster. And he keeps this pace until he nearly slams into Arthur who, unfortunately, lifts his fist and throws a punch directly at Merlin. The dark-haired man manages to dodge enough for the throw to miss his face, but a hard metal rips through the skin of his shoulder.

"WHAT THE HELL?" he screams in reply.

Arthur seems to calm down enough to see what has happened. "Bloody hell."

"Yeah, bloody hell, Arthur! It says don't bring weapons! What were you thinking?" he demands in a low, straight voice that cuts through Arthur's chest as easily as the – as he can see now – brass knuckles dressing his friend's fist. His expression goes slack and he shakes his head. "You have no business going to any haunted house. Do you know that?"

"I have a first aid kit," Arthur offers, reaching his fingers to examine the wound. Thankfully, it is shallow and won't require stitches, but he needs to get it cleaned up fast. Arthur takes Merlin by the elbow and asks him to guide them out in a meek tone.

* * *

Cold as it is sitting in the hatch of Arthur's modest crossover with his shirt off, Merlin feels just fine with his friend's hands working to mend his wound. Rubber gloves and all, the blonde man is slathering Neosporin over the abrasion. As soon as he is done, he removes the gloves and jumps off the back of the vehicle to toss them in the trash. He pulls Merlin's legs to get him onto the ledge of the car.

"I'll stand her to block the wind, but I need a better light to make sure I don't put the adhesive anywhere that's wet," he remarks, explaining his actions no differently than he might for a student in his class. Merlin admires how genuinely Arthur acts as a caregiver. He means well always, and there's not a single person that Merlin would prefer to be with in those moments. This will be a memory for the ages, he thinks.

Merlin thinks about how he's never told Arthur what he means to him as a friend when he's pressing the bandage down. "You're a really good friend. Even if you punched me in a hay maze."

Arthur laughs at him, pink in his cheeks and gloss in his eyes. He apologizes again. Haunted houses aren't his thing, which is why he didn't want to ride with anyone else and why he wanted to invite Merlin. He needed someone that he could trust to go with him. "I knew I'd need someone to keep me centered. It seems so childish now that I say it aloud."

Merlin smiles.

"I'm glad that you trust me that much."

Arthur shrugs, "You're a bae, right? That's what the kids say these days?" He mocks the age difference. When he was sixteen, three years was a huge difference. Now that he is nineteen? Three years is so miniscule of a difference that they may as well be the same age. It doesn't bother Merlin when Arthur makes those jokes.

What catches his attention more is the term he chose to use. "Bae?"

Arthur's face goes from amused instantly to embarrassed. They stare at one another for a moment. Neither dares to speak for fear of what might be said. Merlin knew what 'bae' meant. It wasn't something the 'kids' said to each other often. Well, it was often enough for it to be popular. Originally, though, couples started using it as a gender-neutral term of endearment. Not everyone wants to be called 'pookie,' as it turns out.

"I mean, you're definitely my bae, so… I guess we can say what the kids say," his voice comes out stronger than he anticipates. Merlin leaves the who concept open for interpretation because he's not totally sure what to think or feel about. He does hold Arthur in a much higher regard than anyone else he knows. He's good friends with Gwaine and he'd do anything for him but he's not about to hold Gwaine's hand through haunted house. Lancelot is a great guy, and they've been friends for a very long time, but he's not going to clean up after his weekend parties when his dad's not home.

Arthur cocks an eyebrow, "Before anyone else, that's what that means right? What does that mean – you know – about…" his voice trails off while his hands shake a bit to gesture to the pair of them as a unit. Merlin doesn't know what it means for them, though, and he shrugs just one shoulder in reply.

Only they can decide that, "Does it mean we're dating or something, do you mean?" Merlin asks with an airy voice. Neither man moves very quickly but they do sink into a sort of a hug. Answering the question seems superfluous. When each of them considers the last year they've been working together, helping each other out, and this night's escapades – it seemed obvious that they've been dating for quite some time and just didn't realize it.

Arthur breaks the embrace first, "Let's have dinner?"

"I'm not hungry," Merlin laughs, "but, yeah, let's have dinner."

* * *

A/N: I intentionally told the first block in past tense and then switched to present tense. I wanted a sort of 'backstory' explaining how we got to this night at the haunted house.


	7. Reasons to be Thankful (Merlin's List)

10 11 (Because why not?) Reasons to be Thankful

(For You Specifically)

By

Merlin "Emrys"

the CEO's Personal Assistant / Secret Business Warlock

and maybe boyfriend?

* * *

1\. I really like how you looked in the suit you wore to that meeting yesterday, which is superficial and shallow, but hey, I have eyes, and you were _really_ easy to look at;

2\. The way you laugh is contagious because of how exaggerated and ridiculous it is, but I can hear your innocence in it and that is purer than the bottled water you make you buy every morning before work (seriously, it's all a scam);

3\. The job that I have here because your father bullied you into hiring on of the interns and I was the only one that wasn't smart enough to quit before I was in too deep and had no other career paths to follow;

4\. I know you'll ignore how rude that last one sounds because you know that I make fun of the job for appearances and that I'm actually really happy to work with someone that I really love to be around all day;

5\. Our new coffee machine is absolutely bomb and it makes me job a little bit easier after lunch because you get boring sometimes rambling on about whatever lunch meeting made you miserable today;

6\. Also I really like the plaid shirt you're wearing today because you look like this scrawny lumberjack sort of fellow and it's working out;

7\. That you are as shallow as I am sometimes and that we can honestly make fun of each other for our appearances without any worry in the world that it's actually going to affect our friendship;

8\. Your text messages at five in the morning are the best and worst thing to happen to me because usually they make no sense but you send the greatest emoji combos which never fail to wake me up with a smile;

9\. The smile that curls your lips whenever I walk into a room because I feel a little less crazy for liking you so goddamn much;

10\. My cologne mingling with yours because we always hang out jackets up in your office because we always drive together which means the only time we don't spend together is when we go home and go to sleep, but sometimes we sleep in your office here because we lose track of time and figure we might as well crash on your sofa bed rather than leave the building; and

11\. How you're always telling me that we really need to go on a proper date sometime, because honestly, I really want that too and I think that maybe, just maybe, we can finally have that drink we're always joking about…

* * *

 _A/N: I split the Thanksgiving story (late, I know) into two chapters because I didn't like how it looked all together in the same chapter._


	8. Reasons to be Thankful (Arthur's List)

10 Reasons to be Thankful

by

Arthur Pendragon, CEO

Pendragon Industries

* * *

1\. You always laugh at my jokes even when Morgana and Gwen are literally trying to pay me to stop making them.

2\. You are consistent, not just in your idiocy, but in your loyalty to my business, to me, and to the employees working here. Every day, without fail, you come to work with a red or blue tie over a red or blue shirt with black slacks and black shoes. Every day, without fail, you reply to my five a.m. text messages with a vomit face. And every day, without fail, you stay here with me until midnight to make sure that all of my work is done and I can have my weekend off too.

3\. I know that the graffiti in the bathroom is you but I don't care because I kind of like how ridiculous it is that you're putting our initials inside of different geometric shapes but never a heart. Honestly, just draw the heart and be done with it, but also know that I really love it and can't wait for someone to ask what the hell it means.

4\. You know what I eat for breakfast everyday and you know that I'm always hungry again by ten. Instead of telling me to stop whining about being hungry, you have a snack drawer for me at your desk that probably should be filled with something more important. But high key, I really prefer that you have that snack drawer.

5\. Last winter, you helped me break-up with Gwen because something was missing. I couldn't see it but I could feel it. You didn't do anything to help me realize it but when I did piece it together, you helped make sure that I didn't lose her as a friend (or as the amazing human resource manager known to mankind). Really, you think you're just a hermit in the making but you are brilliant. Sometimes I think you could do Morgana's job even better than she does it already.

6\. That I only have three more to write after this because this is way too emotional for me.

7\. Honestly, you. I really just like you as a person, as a friend, and definitely as more than that but I never really know if we're ready for that 'as more' part. We still awkwardly joke about things all the time and I feel like we are boyfriends but I'm scared to ask and you are too, so we're just in this weird limbo. But I don't care because I'm sharing it with you and that's pretty great.

8\. I am pretty sure you're going to have at least one comment about how I look and it's probably going to be suggestive in some way. As such, I feel like I should tell you that I definitely knock things off the table because I appreciate your arse in an unhealthy way. Anything that request bending or squatting, you should probably just assume I've done it on purpose so I can idly admire you from a different angle.

9\. I like your eyes. In one of those cheesy romantic movie ways, I can get lost in them when we're working. I have to be careful not to look directly at you if I'm working on something important because I'll forget what I'm doing and just talk to you for hours about nothing.

10\. You are taking your vacation at the same time as me this year and while this is somehow the first time this is happening, I'm pretty sure that it's on purpose. So I'm thankful for the memories that will come in the last week of December and the first week of the new year… Because I feel like everything is going to get a whole lot better…

* * *

 _A/N: This isn't my usual style but this sort of presentation is alluring in a way. You'll have to let me know if it was successful or not!_


	9. A Gift for Merlin

Christmas in Camelot – it might sound lovely, but it certainly doesn't begin to describe how truly majestic the scene is during the winter season. Though the beliefs vary widely across the land, most people in Camelot believe in Christianity. The Old Religion and the various pagan worshipers that branches from it are spread around, surely; but when Uther Pendragon pushed them out, it was easy for the Christian faith to overcome and fill the hearts of Camelot's citizens.

Of course, during Arthur's reign, the season was far more about gift giving than proper worship. There would be a service on Christmas day. All of the people of the lower city would be welcomed into the castle for a feast and a celebration after the worship. Until then, though, Arthur had something else to occupy his time.

It sounds truly easy, getting a gift for your manservant, but it boggled Arthur's mind for weeks. He asked Gwen for ideas and even spent some time with Gaius to see what Merlin's free would look like were he to have it. At some point in time the thought occurred to him that he should just give Merlin a week off. The greatest gift to a servant of any sort is just giving them a chance to be off of work and enjoy the break. Normally, Merlin would ask to go to Ealdor for the holiday to be with his mother, but the request never came this year.

He'd been watching Merlin clean up the dishes in his chambers when it struck Arthur that he could give Merlin his own set of armor. Too often he comes into battle at Arthur's side unarmed and unarmored. Usually he makes a weapon out of whatever is near, or pulls an extra sword from a nearby horse. Sometimes he will bring a dingy sword from the armory that needs tending if he is expecting a great deal of danger but not always.

Arthur called in many favors and requests from his friends. Getting Merlin's measurements and figuring out in spars how he handles a weapon, it was quite difficult. In the end, though, it was all a success. Arthur felt very proud of himself. It wasn't an arrogant feeling so much as a warm one. Feeling, emotions, socialization; none of it was really Arthur's forte. He grew up a fighter, a warrior, a loyal soldier to Camelot, while also preparing to be its future king. Much eludes Arthur in the ways of emotion and expression. This is the only way he can think of to show without saying what Merlin means to him.

But he didn't really _want_ Merlin to _know_ it was a gift from him. The plan was to sort of send him off on some task or another, then he would get there and find it all laid out with a card bearing his name. Inside would be a dictated note so that Merlin would see Gwaine's handwriting rather than Arthur's. He'd wanted Gwen to write it out because her handwriting is neat and tidy but it would be too obvious. Gwaine is a close friend of Merlin and it wouldn't occur to him that someone else had given the armor to him.

The first place he laid it all out was in the kitchen. Gwaine was in there already, pillaging what he could from the cook when she was running plates to the handmaidens serving the court and so on. It seemed perfect, and the cook had agreed to let him borrow a table. There was absolutely no way that Merlin could miss it! Alas, though, he was so tired when he stumbled into the kitchen to gather the king's breakfast, he walked right past it and didn't even bat an eye. When Gwaine reported it just after Merlin left his chambers with the King's laundry, they planned immediately to move it into the shed by the training field. Rain, snow, or draught, Arthur and Merlin always sparred after breakfast to warm up for the day. This way, it would be assured that Merlin would see the armor.

Gwaine got it laid out and just barely left the shed before they made it outside. Accustomed to the routine, Merlin began dressing and fastening all which was required for the king's armor. Not once did his eyes glance over to the bench where his gift was laid out neatly. A sigh of disappoint escaped the king's lips as he remarked the armor aloud. "That's fine armor. Who do you reckon it belongs to?"

Only then did Merlin check it out. He walked over and touched it briefly. A short comment about how new it looked and how small it seemed compared to the other knights, he concluded quickly that it must belong to a young man's family. "Probably planning to test for knighthood soon," he'd wisped before returning to his duties to the king. It wasn't even in the realm of possibility to the manservant that it was intended for him. Arthur stepped aside while Merlin pulled on his usual chest guard and his sword from a small trunk nearby. The card that Gwaine had prepared wasn't there and Arthur had to decide if he felt comfortable telling Merlin that the armor was his as a gift or to move it again.

Embarrassed and unsure of how the manservant would react, Arthur made an effort, "Why don't you wear this? It looks like it could fit your scrawny figure." But the manservant quipped back immediately. "So that I can upset a nobleman and give you an excuse to throw me in the stocks as a holiday gift to yourself? I'll be fine in my usual, thanks." Disappointed by the outcome, Arthur settled to have the armor laid out elsewhere and try to surprise Merlin again.

After all, eventually he'd recognize it, right?

Once they'd sparred, the pair went separate ways. He had to muck out stables, feed horses, and grab a few things from market for Gaius. This gave Arthur plenty of time to work with Gwaine and Gwen to find somewhere else to display the armor _and_ find the card that was lost in the kitchen. Or the corridors. Or the field…

It had been easy enough to decide where to put the armor. Gwen said she would invite Merlin around for lunch since she didn't have quite as much to do around the castle that day, so they laid the armor out on a bench in her cottage. As for the card, it took more time to piece together. Gwaine couldn't find it and neither could Gwen. Arthur tried his hand in all of the nooks and crannies of everything between the kitchen and the shed on the training field. It never turned up so Gwaine and Arthur did their best to write a new note.

Arthur hid in Gwen's bedroom, listening to the entire exchange. The second he arrived, Gwen apologized about not having anywhere for him to sit. Very dramatically she cleared off the table which was covered in empty bowls, her laundry, and random household objects. "Let's just pull up the bench," she laughed flawlessly. Merlin must've seen a couple of barstools and ignores her entirely. Gwen made something up about her back hurting or about her neck, maybe. Arthur hadn't really been listening closely because at that point he burst out of her bedroom and pointed at the bench.

"LOOK AT THE BLOODY BENCH, MERLIN!" he'd shouted quite aggressively. Both Gwen and Merlin were surprised. They stood there as Merlin sidestepped the bench and stared at the bench. It didn't hit him straight away but when he did notice, he gawked at the prince. "It's armor, my lord."

"It is _your_ blasted armor, Merlin!" Arthur complained about the manservant being dimwitted and daft before walking over to slam the card into his chest. "Open it, then!" he commanded passively before helping himself to the food on Gwen's counter. Gwen pardoned herself into a different room while Merlin and Arthur had their moment. The king kept chowing down as Merlin read the card aloud.

 _Dearest Merlin,_

 _You are basically my boyfriend and I wanted to give you something that showed you that you mattered quite a lot to me, the king. We are in a relationship for the most part so giving a gift is kind of mandatory. This armor is a guarantee that you won't be hurt as badly when we go into battle and that if you are fatally wounded that I will have time to profess my love for you before you pass._

 _Have a happy holiday and a month off with pay. You are the very best and even though you are lucky to have me, I am lucky to have you too. So let's rejoice in our newfound love._

 _Yours,_

 _King Arthur_

"What in the bloody hell was that?" the king choked on the piece of bread he'd stuffed into his mouth. Merlin wasn't at all bothered by the card and even laughed when he was finished reading it. It was obvious to him that someone else had written the card. "Gwaine," Arthur groaned at the realization that Gwaine was trying to pull a fast one on the King.

"That explains this card, too," Merlin said as he yanked a card from the back of his trousers. He opened that one and read it aloud too. It was far more romantic and descriptive than the second card that Gwaine had written. In a way, Arthur was thankful that he had intervened and just told Merlin about the armor.

They had smiled and it was strange for only a moment before Arthur changed the subject. "Well, should we get it on and see how it fits?" For the first time ever, it was Arthur dressing and fastening this and that to Merlin. Their roles were swapped and it was no less natural than anything else the pair of them had ever done together. Once Merlin was dressed in full, Arthur called Gwen back out into the kitchen where they marveled at Merlin.

"More handsome than any knight there ever was," she cooed softly. Arthur agreed quickly then ordered Merlin to get out of his armor and take it back to his chambers. There was still a lot to be done that day, but after that, he would honor Gwaine's words. Merlin deserved a month off after all he's done in the name of Camelot… after all he's done for Arthur…

On their walk back to the castle, Merlin thanked the king with a long hug and whispered gratitude. The king thought he might've been crying but he didn't want to pry. They just shared a kind embrace before finishing their routine.

* * *

A/N: I had this idea of Arthur trying to give a gift to Merlin but not knowing how to do it without it being weird, and I don't know that I really conveyed it very well. I started writing in past tense on accident so I stuck with it and so as I went, I started writing it the way someone might retell and event that happened. So - I don't know how good of a story it is - but I hope you liked it just the same. I want to keep writing 'Holidays with Merthur' periodically for however long I have the stamina.

If you are celebrating Christmas, please have a happy holiday. If you're not celebrating Christmas, have a happy Monday. If you're someone where in the world and it isn't Monday and you don't celebrate Christmas - have a happy day/night/other holiday. You are great.


	10. A New Beginning

**GWEN, AFTER**

Gwen crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. "Did you ever stop to consider that you could be in love with more than one person, Arthur?" She looked down her nose at him setting in the corner of the library wearing his dirty clothes from the day before, and all she can think is that it's a surprise it's taken him so long to realize that his feelings for Merlin aren't as simple as they may seem.

A scoff escaped his lips but it was weak and unconvincing. Gwen asserts the idea again, more clearly. "There has only ever been one person that came between us. I guess you didn't see it because it was never this romantic display of affection but it always happened. If Merlin was in need, it mattered not how your pursuit would affect me, because all that mattered was Merlin." Her voice is not snarky or scathing; nor does her body language suggest that she is jealous or heartbroken. If anything, she looks tired. Tired of the ignorance, tired of the shame, and tired of the limbo. Arthur was planning to propose to Gwen for weeks, and all of these plans were made for some elaborate show. Merlin wasn't complaining, just telling her out of excitement.

Merlin was so happy for Arthur to get married that he didn't even feel that his face betrayed him. Drooping eyes and sagging posture; others might have thought he was tired from all the preparations being made, but Gwen knew so much better than everyone else. Arthur and Merlin, a couple, it might be a joke to the knights, but they don't know how very real it is. Even they have remained clueless all these years.

"I think, if it matters at all to you, that you should march straight down to Merlin's chambers and tell him that it wasn't a mistake. Then you can talk about it like the adult men I know you to be, and we'll start figuring out what to do so that we're all happy." Arthur did not budge, of course, but Gwen had said what she needed and would not linger any further. She spun on her heels and marched away without so much as a thought to glance back at the distressed king. What matter of it was hers now anyway? Arthur had kissed Merlin, so between Arthur and Merlin the matter would remain until they'd decided how to deal with their feelings. Until she was assured they had made amends with the kiss, however, she had no intention to accepting any marriage proposals.

* * *

 **MERLIN, BEFORE**

It had snowed so much that there was absolutely nothing to do or be done in the castle, save for eating and reading, really. There was a training room but the knights were taking turns sporadically inside that it seemed pointless to even encourage Arthur to go. Besides, he'd been so caught up in trying to find the perfect way to propose to Gwen that he rarely left his chambers. Merlin expected the day to be easy.

 _Why_ he allowed himself to think that is a mystery, since Arthur specialized in trying to push Merlin's buttons on literally any occasion. Once he'd helped the king to dress and gathered his laundry, Arthur grabbed Merlin by the shoulder. "I need you to pretend to be Gwen today."

"That is a very odd request," Merlin laughed, his eyes squinting with amusement. Sure, he'd played the role of a woman for this or that out of necessity. The concept itself didn't bother him. It would be the reason that could make it strange.

"I want you to pretend to be Gwen and I'm going to take you through the whole day I have planned so that I'm ready when I propose to her. It won't be hard, really, I'll just pretend to pamper you all day. Almost as easy as spending your work day at the tavern!" His hand smacks so hard against Merlin's back that his magic nearly flares to send Arthur flying. Fortunately he redirects his frustration and only knocks a pillow off the bed. Daft as ever, the king doesn't even notice the 'puff' of the pillow hitting the ground; and better yet, he won't even question it when he does find it. "Sure," the manservant agreed. Was there ever even a chance that he could deny the request?

* * *

 **ARTHUR, AFTER**

Knowing every corridor, room, and route throughout the castle is one benefit to being king, though not for the usual reasons on that day. Arthur simply had wanted to avoid running into anyone who might ask where he'd been, what he'd been doing, and why he'd been doing it. The only person to know about the kiss was Gwen and that was completely by accident. Merlin had made some changes to the speech he was going to give to Gwen as he asked for her hand in marriage. It was always going to sound better than what he'd written originally. But this had felt different, listening to Merlin say the words he'd come up with for the woman he'd soon be marrying. Arthur was captivated by his presentation and his voice and, without any real warning, he'd sort of done it.

Pathetic, it was, not even remembering what actions he took between Merlin starting the speech and his kissing him unannounced. When had the urge even come to fruition? Apparently, it was more a mystery to himself than to the people around him. Merlin hadn't looked very shocked, had he? Arthur couldn't even really remember that either. As soon as he'd pulled his lips away, off he ran. The only place that nobody would look for Arthur would be in the blasted library. When he was young, he avoided the library so adamantly that his tutors often had to follow him to the training fields and to dinner just to give him his lessons.

It crosses his mind that if he'd read more silly stories as Morgana had when she was young that maybe he'd been more privy to how feelings work. Enemy as she was to him now, Arthur couldn't help but wonder what advice she might've given him were she still his good sister. Well, annoying sister, but good. She'd probably say the same thing as Gwen. _Talk to him and see what happens_ , she'd probably giggle with satisfaction because she would think it is adorable in some way. It isn't unheard of, men engaging other men, but to love them and have a proper relationship? Openly? Arthur hadn't actually known something of that sort to have ever been.

Fear formed a lump in his throat without his permission. Feeling vulnerable is easily one of Arthur's least favorite experiences, only really second to the feeling of loss and helplessness. And, honestly, he felt all of those things at once as soon as he'd kissed Merlin. Everything was out of his control the second he jerked forward and put his hands on his manservant's face.

* * *

 **GWEN, BEFORE**

Arthur hadn't been anywhere in the castle that he normally was, which was a strange occurrence when everyone was pretty well trapped inside by the biting cold and thick snow. Alas, she didn't let it bother her much. How much trouble could a king and a manservant get into with such a limited range of mobility? Instead of fretting, she carried on throughout her day.

It had been kind of Arthur to keep her around the castle as staff after Morgana had left, as it was his argument to Uther when he was still alive to make the final decision pertaining to her employment. The relationship she shared with the late king was not good but he felt a certain level of debt to her. Gwen had lost her father to the king's magic mania and it resulted in her permanent employment to the Pendragon family. Mostly, Gwen helped wherever there was a shortage of staff and did general cleaning. Her work was more intensive, it seemed, as she also did the repairs for the weapons and armor used in combat training. It was far more fulfilling than her employment to Morgana. She never had felt that she properly earned her pay, as she'd been a friend to the king's ward, or daughter properly as she knew, and every day felt more as if they were hanging around together than anything else.

On this particular day, work around the castle was sparse. Trades were on an as needed basis, as it required travelling out into the winter air. Runs for water were limited since some of the wells were frozen. Gwen figured it was her best bet to find the rooms that often went unused and dusted them, wiped the surfaces down, and swept the floors of any dirt specks that might've come round. After all, a good many knights and servants make pit stops for a bit of passionate embrace before carrying on with their days. Gwen knows too well the ways of the love, and a far more demanding temptation is lust itself. She is not blind to the goings on within the castle walls.

There is one room in particular, however, that everyone avoids. It is Morgana's old chambers. Not a soul dares to enter it, and in fact most people avoid that hallway at all costs. Her room is not trapped, of course, and neither is it charmed or cursed. Morgana's quarters are just that – the room where she slept and spent her time. Hard as it is to believe, when she was just an ordinary woman in Camelot, she was nothing more than that. Gwen didn't even actively decide to go there to clean it up so much as just showed up there.

And, much to her surprise, it was not as empty as she expected.

* * *

 **MERLIN, AFTER**

Gaius did not ask questions when Merlin burst into his chambers in tears. Instead, he offered to make his favorite meal should the supplies be available. Merlin shouted in a harsh tone that he would love nothing more, which had to have been confusing for the physician. Using magic, he locked his door, and buried his head beneath his pillow.

The young warlock wanted to scream and cry and scream and repeat this process endlessly until he forgot what had onset the tantrum in the first place. At the same time, however, he also wanted to replay the scene in his head and figure out what had happened. Was Arthur mad? Was he charmed? Could he be under the influence of magic? Rightfully, he should be racing around the castle looking for a threat! Instead, his angst and confusion drove him to his cot in shambles.

The only question he wanted to answer was: why?

Why had the king kissed him?

Unfortunately, the underlying question to this was far more personal and frightening, though not quite in usual way. Merlin hadn't thought about romance often, and when he had it was many years ago. _Freya_ , he remembered fondly. She had died and subconsciously he'd blocked himself off from all other possible lovers. And, honestly, how many had actually pursued him? None, as far as he could recall, or perhaps one or two that had never bothered to confront him; but there'd never even been any rumors of Merlin being the 'apple of her eye' in any respect.

Although, there had been plenty of jokes about Arthur and Merlin…

Was there truth to any of it?

Merlin punched, regretfully, the wall above his headboard. If the kiss wasn't proof enough that there was some truth to it, then it was magic. And if that was the case, then Merlin had two options: confront the king or find the sorcerer.

* * *

 **ARTHUR & MERLIN, THE KISS**

 _Guinevere, you are the sun shining when the clouds part on a summer's day._

"What sort of hell is this? Do you really expect me to say that?" he gagged in response to the changed first line of his speech. He'd asked for Merlin's recommendations, and since they were finishing their route in Morgana's old chambers – symbolically because that is how he met Gwen and also to rid the room of it's dark reputation – they may as well use the supplies left behind. She always had to do a fair bit or writing, usually rejections the way she spoke, and so it was a convenient time to fix the speech anyway.

Merlin smirked. "I have a way with words, Arthur. Some of your best speeches were more my words than yours." Without arguing, it was agreed that this is embarrassingly accurate and the manservant continued reading the updated version of Arthur's deepest emotions towards the love of his life.

 _I truly believe that behind some of the strongest kings there are steadfast queens, supporting and guiding their husbands in ways that are never seen. I have been inspired by the women I have met over the last few years, whether they were friend or foe, and I have thought of the man I would be were it not for them._

"Am I proposing to Gwen?" Arthur groaned in protest. He could not see the relevance in referencing the women he'd been faced with during his career as king. Merlin pointed fiercely at him and explained that if he would just listen and let him finish reading the whole speech to him that maybe, _just maybe_ , it would all make sense; it shut the king up but only after one more snide comment. "Fine, I'll pretend to be Gwen and you read it to me. Show me how it's done."

"Sounds good to me. Learn from the king of love," the joke had come from his mouth so flawlessly that neither man had thought to laugh. Merlin readied himself by kneeling in front of Arthur, who was sitting on the chair batting his eyes. He looked properly enthralled in the manservant, and so he started the 'scene' back up.

 _But the most influential woman in my life has been you. As I have grown from a knight, to a prince, to a king, you have given me clarity when everything seemed hopeless. You have been my conscience when I have gone astray. And you have been my center when everything I knew began falling apart._

 _Though Camelot may be my home, it is not the same without you._

Arthur had slowly moved forward, acting less and reacting more. He'd been properly swept away in what Merlin was reading from the page. It was not a particularly long speech, the one Arthur had scrawled in a rush to get his thoughts on the paper. Merlin hadn't looked away from the page where he'd rewritten all the corrections he made to Arthur's original, not until the final line.

 _I am defined by your love, and so I hope that you would accept mine._

A thought danced through Merlin's eyes, he'd seen just before his hands flew up to his cheeks, but Arthur hadn't been able to stop himself enough to think what it might've been. Everything about the motion was impulsive and uncontrollable. Before he could even take a breath his mouth was on Merlin's, his head tilted just to the side so that their noses weren't smashed together.

They remained this way without kissing back or pulling away. It might've been brief or it might've been a very long time. Merlin did eventually kiss back. It was a soft pucker but it was enough to know that he'd reciprocated enough to be at ease. Arthur and Merlin then shared a proper kiss where each other them parted their mouths just slightly enough to taste the other.

It stopped there, however, because the door opened and a familiar voice blurted, "Oh my," and then Arthur bolted away. Merlin lingered for a moment, apologized, and then also swept past Gwen to hide.

* * *

 **GWEN, THE KISS**

Arthur and Merlin stood there kissing in front of her and instead of thinking what any other girl would have thought should her partner be seen kissing someone else, Gwen asked herself why it looked so awkward. The shock hadn't been in the men kissing but rather in their comfort level while kissing. She was astounded that it didn't bother her the way it should have, and even as she looked at them trying to be upset, the anger never came. If anything, she was relieved that it was no longer a secret. She'd always suspected a bit that there was something more between them.

People, as she knew, could love more than one person at a time.

"Oh my," had slipped out of her mouth unexpectedly. She nearly dropped the boom and pan in her hands when the king pushed past her to run away. Not even wide-eyed, she stared off at Merlin to see how he would react. Gwen hadn't sought an apology, though Merlin uttered one anyhow, "I am ashamed, Guinevere, I am so sorry." He too sped away from the room as if it were the scene of some heinous crime. Saddened that her friends were embarrassed, the handmaiden simply went about her duties as she'd planned. Only once did she stop to read the pages the men had left behind.

Arthur's original proposal wasn't bad or even dishonest. What he had written was honest and reflected of the love that he did hold for Gwen. There was a second sheet between the two versions that bore both Merlin and Arthur's s handwriting on it. In this paper she could see both men and their feelings emerging. Merlin knew love far better than someone so free of romance should, but then she reminded herself that she was wrong. The king's manservant had known love for many, many years. And, alas, the version which only had Merlin's scrawl upon the page displayed a deep romance that prevails over all else because it is more than love, it is more than friendship: it is destiny.

Gwen sighed and let her body fall in a heap into the chair where she presumed that Arthur had been sat based on how the men were standing when she'd arrived. The love she shared with the king was no less real, and surely it would be a lasting romance in its own way, but it would never beat out the fated love shared between the king and his manservant. Some stories are told together until the end of time and she would be a fool to deny that she knew Merlin and Arthur would be on such story.

She knew what her position was before she'd declared it to herself. Arthur would need encouragement to admit that the kiss wasn't a mistake and that his feelings are real. Accepting of the situation, Gwen stood up and breathed deep. The winter would soon be gone and with it a new year would begin. Melted would the snow be so that life could start again.

"A new beginning," Gwen settled.

* * *

 **ARTHUR & MERLIN, AFTER STILL**

Each bang brought with it a new curse under his breath. Gaius had let Arthur in under the impression there wasn't anything to be worried of but the ruckus he had begun to make drove the physician out of his own chambers. When Arthur announced that Gaius had gone and that it was time for Merlin to stop being so dramatic, that is precisely when Merlin unlocked the door from his bed.

He just figured if they were on kissing terms then he might as well know about the magic too. Merlin decided sometime in the night that the king should know what sort of man he'd kissed. It was surprising that his unlocking the door without moving from the bed went unnoticed. Arthur had instead rushed straight to the bedside and yanked the blankets from Merlin's back. "We're talking about this," he declared with a hint of his usually bossy tone fraying the edges of his tone.

Merlin worked his magic again but shutting and locking the door. Arthur did notice this time, and he remarked quickly, "We can address that next, but we are talking about the other thing first."

"Not bothered by my magic then, my lord?" Merlin muttered into his mattress. "Oh, I'm bothered that you kept it a bloody secret, you sod, but I need you to know first that kissing you was not a mistake." He barely breathes before he repeats the most important point from his sentence. "It was not a mistake."

Merlin sighs, "Oh, you don't have to convince me. From where I stood the whole thing was very intentional."

Hands balled up the cloth against his sides, one hand grabbing his trousers and the other his tunic, and it yanks him upright. The king then sat on the bed where Merlin had just been lying down to prevent him from burrowing into the sheets again. There they sat looking at one another with the confession that Arthur did not think the kiss was a mistake and Merlin saying he didn't need convinced. "Gwen thinks I'm in love with you, if you can believe it."

"I suppose that seems impossible to you," this snide comment was more or less an observation. Arthur wouldn't have said anything about it if he weren't on the fence about it how true it was. He may not regret kissing his manservant but he clearly isn't at peace with the events.

"Maybe, a little bit. I knew I cared for you more than I should care about any servant. More than once I compared my value in your to Gwen," emotions came through his voice, though he hadn't seemed as scared as Merlin would've expected. Instead, he sounded almost delighted. "Somehow I must have known about it but never fleshed out the idea of it. Probably the same with the magic…"

With patience, Arthur and Merlin slowly picked away the layers of ignorance that surrounded their feelings. Merlin revealed his brief relationship with Freya, Arthur explained how he'd known all about the jokes the knight made and why, and before long they were able to see a whole picture between them. Though it hadn't been obvious before, it was glaringly apparent in those hours they spent discussing this unplanned kiss.

"As for the magic," Arthur tried to segue, but he was met with Merlin's lips instead.

* * *

A/N: I know it seems a little bit like a stretch, but this is intended for the New Year's holiday. There's no mention of other holidays to give a time frame but the whole "new beginning" sort of angle is based on the whole hope and positivity of starting a new year. Yeah. It's a stretch but I hope you liked it anyway.


	11. Healthy Relationship? Nah!

**7 Habits of a Healthy Relationship**

* * *

 **#1 You should always celebrate good news together!**

* * *

Spring is a beautiful season but not the current one. Merlin yearns for those warm days spent washing clothes alongside Gwen, snacking on fresh berries and joking about the royal pains in their job. Inevitably, Merlin has much more to complain about than Gwen.

Without realizing that he's rounded the corner, not usually because he walks the same route nearly every morning, Merlin finds himself face first in the chest of Uther Pendragon – King of Camelot. "I should have your head," he starts.

Merlin nods stupidly because it's all he can do.

"But I fear you don't have it now," Uther decides. He starts to walk away before he shouts 'Aha' and turns around to begin shouting Merlin's name. Rolling his eyes before he turns around, Merlin forces a grin to meet the King's gaze. "There is a joust coming up that Arthur has been invited to do in Oyfed. I've sent that he shall be in attendance. He leaves tomorrow morning."

Presumably, he is to explain this to Arthur. After a quick nod, the manservant rushes away before the King tries to talk to him again. Along the way he tries to recount a joust at this time of year. The second month of the year is still snowy, though less so than the others addled by winter, and generally isn't considered to be the best time for travel.

He doesn't go to Arthur's chambers straight away but when he does arrive, Merlin makes the announcement immediately. Arthur doesn't take kindly to the news. "Oyfed? I've been there once! Are they even a proper kingdom anymore? A joust?" He continues to moan and groan while angrily throwing stuff about to be packed. Arthur can throw a royal tantrum if he chooses and it is not anything that Merlin would describe as "something to behold."

"You should be happy, though, because you'll get out of the castle. Plus, it's a surprise. Consider it a holiday gift coming a bit late," Merlin feigns excitement while he tidies up around the chambers. Honestly, this should have been good news, right? Arthur has been complaining about being stuck inside, particularly antsy and energetic this year, and he's been complaining nonstop about wanting to get outside. And he'd been outside, of course, to do hunts and close quarters patrols. It's not like he'd been _stuck_ inside the castle walls for months. He had been out.

What he really wanted was a reason to go do something out of the ordinary. So why is he begin such a sod about going to this joust? Furthermore, Merlin wants to know why he, himself, is also kind of grumpy about it. Good news? Well, not exactly.

* * *

 **#2 Keep the positive thought ratio high. Never let the negative thoughts outweigh the positive ones.**

* * *

Snow is pretty deep and the brightness of the snow in the daylight is absolutely blinding. There were multiple occasions where Arthur would beg to stop so that they could just close their eyes and relax. If he knew a way to lessen the pain, Merlin would have suggested it or cast the spell. Frustrated by the continual stops, however, he does try to encourage Arthur at the least.

"What's a brave knight like you need to keep stopping for?" Merlin tries.

Arthur grunts, digs out a loaf of bread and picks at the edges while atop his horse. The lack of a proper response means that Merlin needs to try again, he guesses. "Sire, I feel like you're worried that I'm not going to be able to keep up with you, and that's probably true. That's unusually kind of you but it is not necessarily."

This time he twists his head around to look Merlin straight on, and then with his grunt he rolls his eyes. A smile threatens to come over his lips but it doesn't. If he smiles it will only make Arthur angry. Merlin is honestly trying to do the opposite of that. So he tucks his chin down and reiterates. "I am not much, my lord, but I am capable of riding a horse behind you. I have followed you everywhere, have I not?"

"Oh, are you insinuating that I can't ride one behind you, then?"

What?

 _What?_

"I'm sorry…" he tries to process the jump that Arthur makes from his rhetorical question to his snarky reply. Was he really insinuating anything other than his unencumbered devotion to the prince? Even as questioning and outspoken as he is for a manservant, Merlin certainly didn't intentionally irritate Arthur. Not this time… "I was just trying to say that we don't have to keep stopping because of the sunlight. I can keep up with you."

That means nothing, of course, because Arthur swings around to position himself behind Merlin. Commanding both horses to move forward, Arthur's voice is booming. In many inexplicable ways, it feels like a whip wrapping around Merlin's throat hearing the bite in his tone. This was already a hard day. Did he really have to be an arse about it too?

Time floats by awkwardly while Arthur directs his manservant from behind, which has it's own slew of jokes to come with it, until the prince begins loudly – exasperating? His sighs become so dramatic that Merlin can't help but ask. "What is wrong, my lord?"

"It's just…" And now he's trailing off. Only he doesn't hold back his laugh. He doesn't have to wonder if he's said something wrong. Arthur just doesn't have to care about these things, really, and that's fine by Merlin. He is glad that Arthur doesn't feel inhibited. That's their relationship: they just trust each other.

Of course, it is insanely irritating. For obvious reasons.

"You really know how to ride a horse and it's impressive. I am just distracted by the fact that your trousers are saggy and bunching up against the saddle. Your hair is messy and I swear you stink worse than a stagnant river." The only thing that keeps Merlin from whipping his horse around and attacking Arthur with the fury of his long-hidden magic is the fact that Arthur keeps prattling on and on about all of Merlin's imperfections. Without getting a word in edgewise, how can Merlin even react?

* * *

 **#3 Keep your standards high so that you never accept anything less than your partner's best.**

* * *

Merlin and Arthur's stops prevent them from making it to any sort of village or city before nightfall so they're taking up residence inside of a cave. The opening does let in any wind, there's no snow piling inside of it, either. Merlin spent time gathering sticks to make a small fire while Arthur went on a short hunt for meat. It's not much but he manages a couple of squirrels.

Squirrel stew is better than no stew at all, the men agree, and so Merlin prepares it using snow for the water, pine sap from the trees for sweetness, and chunks of the meat freshly shaved from the poor critter's bones. "That smells interesting."

"You smell interesting," he growls in quick reply. Arthur's constant nitpicking all day were simply too much to bear after some time. A frown painted to his lips and a fire in his heart, though, Merlin can't stop there. He has some pent up anger so he further snarks the prince. "Thankfully, I don't ever expect you to smell _good._ "

"Says the servant boy who mucks my stables," Arthur laughs haughtily. "Hopefully you don't muck up my dinner. Clumsy as you are, you might think I should sleep in it rather than eat it."

Merlin urges himself to hold his tongue.

But he fails.

"Your standards of me are so high, my lord. I'm afraid that I might disappoint." And disappoint he does – by flinging a small spoonful of the water at his companion. Arthur responds by throwing a snowball in Merlin's face. Silently agreeing that they are even, each stands and unrolls their bags on opposite sides of the cave, which is long and narrow rather than wide. They aren't quite two meters apart but it is enough space. At least for today.

Maybe not tomorrow. They'll have to see what the morning holds.

* * *

 **#4 Remain close to your friends and family. It is important to have more than your partner in your support system.**

* * *

Merlin is still reeling about the fact that King Uther send Arthur to do this joust in Oyfed and it is a _love_ joust. The winner of the jousting tournament gets to marry the king's daughter. Arthur has zero interest in but as soon as he found out he told Merlin to take the day off. This raises some worry in his mind immediately but he's comforted when he sees that Sir Leon has also come along with other familiar faces from the knights.

When he tracks the King down, though, Arthur is chatting with the King and his daughter joyously. Merlin bows to interject, never taking his eyes off of Arthur – who never once sets his upon Merlin. "Sire, I came to see if you would need me this evening."

"Absolutely not, enjoy the festivities."

Merlin lingers but then bows again, both to Arthur and the King of Oyfed. He doesn't bother to learn his name because he speeds his way through the banquet hall until he tracks down Sir Leon. Being a servant means waiting until the knights and nobles decide to acknowledge his or her presence. Sir Leon, thankfully, welcomes Merlin at the first lull. "This is Prince Arthur's personal manservant! He's been given the night off, I understand, and he certainly deserves it. I've never met a more dedicated young man."

Compliments of the shortest variety escape their lips before Sir Leon realizes that perhaps he should excuse himself for a moment. Once they are cleared from others, Merlin complains. "Arthur refuses to talk to me or even look at me. Has he spent any time with the other knights?"

"Afraid not," Sir Leon mumbles with his features wrinkle into the center of his face. His concern is clear in a quieter way. "We tried to invite him around for some friendly sparring before the tournament tomorrow. Instead he spoke with the knights from Oyfed and the stranger ones from Nemeth all afternoon."

Someone passes by so Merlin squeezes in a compliment to mask the seriousness of their conversation. "Ever the diplomat his father raised, that Prince Arthur, isn't her?" Merlin doesn't mean to say it so loud but it sort of booms into the space around them. Sir Leon smiles easily, though, and proves how much better he is as these sorts of things.

"You are quite right," he replies boldly. "He will require your services in the morning, I'm sure, so why don't you head off to rest." Without needing to say it, Merlin knows that Sir Leon will watch after Arthur. The strange disposition is obvious to someone else, which is comforting and damning simultaneously. Pushing those friends, those men who are considered family, away is not going to make the shock of this Love Joust any less difficult.

"Thank you, sire, I shall see you at the joust."

Merlin can wait for Arthur to come around in the meantime. There's a sofa in guest bedroom he's been given, so what's the harm in resting there for a little bit, he wonders – and the decides there is none.

* * *

 **#5 Don't expect your partner to be the sole reason for your happiness. Do not expect them to make you happy first.**

* * *

Unsure who to be when Arthur isn't hanging around, Merlin slouches in the sofa while flipping through the pages of a book that he found packed away in Arthur's bags. Initially, it is hardly significant. Pages after pages of old tales about knights being courageous and brave. Typical reading material for someone as arrogant as Arthur, at least that's what Merlin convinces himself for a few minutes.

Until he reminds himself that sometimes – he's convinced that Arthur is illiterate. How many speeches did Merlin end up writing for the prince? How many letters had he scrawled? Arthur didn't do his own writing if he could avoid it and even less often than that - his own reading. "Why do you have this?"

To pass the time, he reads each story. It comes as no surprise to the warlock that every story resembles the one that came before it, repeating this cycle until there is a story at the end about "A Knight and His Manservant."

Obviously written in Arthur's handwriting, this story depicts a 'handsome and talented' young prince accompanied by his 'incapable and ignorant' manservant who somehow always saves the day by being stupid. Sometimes this manservant would do something erratic or something that would seem counterproductive, but in the end it helped the prince and his knights.

"Sod," Merlin curses, throwing the book across the room and knocking down an empty case. It doesn't shatter when it hits the ground and it frustrates Merlin so he floats it back onto the pedestal. After a moment of letting his anger bubble, he then flings the vase across the room and watches it shatter into pieces near the outlying window. Upon the cushion the pieces shall sit until he is tasked with cleaning them tomorrow.

Drifting in and out of a sleepy haze, the prince manages to sneak into the chambers without alerting Merlin to his presence. It isn't until Arthur is stripped to his skivvies that he sees the manservant lying sprawled over the sofa with the book on the floor next to him.

Arthur stares at his manservant with a longing in his heart. Happiness is such a strange thing and to get it simply from the companionship of his serving staff? The idea feels so natural that he almost can't accept it. Reaching out to Merlin's leg hanging over the side, he considers trying to move him to the bed without waking him, but Merlin sits straight up at the stirring. "Just in time to get kicked out," Arthur growls against his wishes. Literally, he'd feel much better if Merlin just stayed put.

"I'm surprised you lasted so long without me, my lord, but I'm glad to see it. Maybe you can get your own breakfast in the morning too!" While leaving, Arthur reminds Arthur that he's needed first thing in the morning. Merlin refutes and opens the door very slowly so that it creaks loudly with every movement. It's an effort to drown out the prince's voice, he thinks.

But he won't be misheard, "Stay. I demand it."

"Am I really your own source of satisfaction, my lord?" Merlin jokes. _He jokes he thinks,_ Arthur notes to himself. _He doesn't know how right he is,_ the prince declares to himself. Most others find pleasure in their craft in their status or in themselves. Not Arthur Pendragon, though. No.

He finds his greatest source of happiness in the eyes of his bloody manservant. "Fine," he agrees. It puts Arthur's racing heart as ease before he crawls into bed with little more than his knickers to cover him.

* * *

 **#6 Be intimate! Be intimate as often as you can, wherever you can, whenever you can. Don't be afraid of (or shy about) physical affection.**

* * *

Before the first round of the joust this morning, something feels especially daunting about battling for some woman's heart. She isn't really giving it away, is she? She's probably just agreeing to whatever her father wants. Arthur met her yesterday and she was pretty enough but her personality was missing – like a page in a book. He knew before he came that something wasn't quite right but he was sure that he would win regardless.

Now, he's not so sure.

If he were to win her hand, which he doesn't want, he would surely lose something that matters far more to him than political power: _love._ Without even realizing what he's doing, Arthur places his left hand over Merlin's waist and draws him in for a strange sort of sideways hug. A second passes and he decides it is an ineffective way of showing his affection so he turns into his manservant and places his right hand on his waist. "I'm going to hug you now," Arthur announces as commandingly as he feels is intimidating. Merlin shrugs and wraps his arms around Arthur's neck – so easily – so unquestioningly – so _tightly._

But the proximity is a bit much, in a way, and Arthur moves his hips backwards. He cannot explain it even to himself because he definitely wants this embrace from his closest friend, truest ally. Why does he feel compelled to immediately put distance between himself and Merlin then? "That's enough."

"Good luck, yeah? Don't get killed out there," Merlin speaks freely moving from one thing to next as any truly skillful servant should be able to do. "Your ignorant and incapable manservant won't be out there to save you, after all."

Arthur counts himself stabbed through the heart as he exits the tent to take his place in the entry gate.

* * *

 **#7 Make sure that you do exciting things together and be exciting together. Don't lose the spark!**

* * *

"That was the most dramatic loss I've ever seen," he laughs hysterically on the king's mattress. Arthur is lying on the bed with him, holding his hands over his face, clearly embarrassed. "You could not have made it more obvious that you were trying to lose!"

The idea was thought up on a whim. This "Love Joust," which is a terrible name in every way, wasn't the way that Arthur wanted to get married. He wanted to fall in love properly and find someone who genuinely made him happy. Maybe happiness isn't political power, right? After all, he'd heard about how deeply in love with his mother his father had been. True and sincere love is real.

Daring to peer over at his manservant, so close and comfortable in this intimate position. It's funny, isn't it, being so at peace with this setting. Of all the people in the world – the one who argues, defies, insults, and all manner of other inappropriate things – that's the one he feels safest with at his side. Where most men would want a knight defending them – Arthur would shamelessly admit he would take Merlin as his defense any day.

No special skills, somebody might try to point out, to which Arthur would strike that liar down with thrilling ease. "Let's grab some herbs from the market before we head back to Camelot."

"How domestic," his voice wisps through his continued laughter. And he was quite right. Arthur showed up without his weaponry and unfastened his armor before he went out so that it sort of fell off with the breeze. Freezing and rigid form the remnants of the icy season, well, Arthur was left surrendering form his obvious inability to participate. "Good."

Arthur repeats himself for good measure, "Good."

 _This_ is good.

 _This_ friendship; _This_ companionship; _This_ relationship.

 _This Merlin_.

It is very good indeed.


	12. If I'm Lucky

"Care to go 'round the pub for a drink?" Arthur asks, though it's not necessarily specifically towards me. He's looking at me, and I am sweating beneath my collar, but his arms gesture out towards everyone. There's nothing better than a drinking holiday around the office. It's better than making one up so we can all get smashed and complain about each other without having to remember it the next day. His eyes flick away but then they settle on me again, something softer in his expression this time, and _god I am sweating._

"Sorry, can't," Morgana wisps in her dazzling tone of voice that is so unique that it can't be described in any single word. Even a well-thought out string of words laced together precisely to explain how delicate and alluring her voice is… well, it's not quite right. She's the office belle, obviously.

Though, Gwen is far more likable. Morgana is a proper businesswoman and a true leader in the marketing department. Gwen is a customer service lead. It makes sense that she's there too. Her compassion is the golden standard, not just for Pendragon Industries, but for anyone sporting a customer service team of any sort. Gwen does actual lectures about how to do her job well.

I want to look away from Arthur but I can't, and my lopsided grin is probably giving away how desperately I want to go to a pub with him. It's not exactly a secret that I'm madly in love with the Pendragon Industries' most eligible bachelor and heir, but he's somehow missed the memo.

Gwen comes up next to me and puts an arm on my shoulder. "Unfortunately, I have to head one home straight away. Elyan and I are taking dad to the cinema." She kisses my cheek the way she always does, loving and supportive as ever. Hell, she must know how excited I am about the possibility that I can finally have a go with Arthur alone and away from work. And with the false confidence of a bit of liquor no less!

"Shame. Are the knights already gone for the night?" Arthur asks, jogging onto the balcony, peering down at the sales floor. He calls them his "knights" because they're 'constantly fighting off the competition' to get more buyers. I hate that I love this about him so much. Like, I _really_ love it.

The knights are gone, though. It's Saturday. They were only scheduled to work four hours this morning, and it was a volunteer basis only. The last to leave was Leon, and only because he's the floor supervisor, so he has to sign off on everything before he can go. "It's bloody Saint Patrick's day, innit?"

"Yeah," I mutter. God, when did I find my voice? Mordred just shows up a bit unexpectedly. He is Arthur's personal assistant and shows up pretty much whenever for various reasons, so I can't be surprised when he's just there. Mordred is a great worker but he's a bit of a sad bloke. He's someone that Morgana poached from another company, the story goes, and I've never fully trusted him.

Arthur invites Mordred, too but he declines. Morgana says that he's actually coming with her to a blind date event that's going in downtown London. Mordred affirms and I fight the urge to question it. I want to glare, to let them know that I know there's something off, but I'm still glued to Arthur. I'm still waiting for him to see if I can come.

And as he does, asking quickly and harshly, "How about you," I swear the sweat around my neck turns into a waterfall super charged with the electricity I feel when he looks at me. There's an undetectable longing, too, proving that he really wants someone to go with him. He wants to go drinking for the holiday specials but he doesn't want to go alone. I don't want him to either.

"Sure, I guess, just so you're not looking sad at the bar drinking by yourself, yeah?" Why do I do this? Why do I play it cool like I don't want to just grab his face and tell him what for about all my feelings: urges to kiss him, smack his arse when he walks by, and send him heart emojis whenever he passes my office to get his "I'm bored" cuppa.

Arthur rolls his eyes but the nods. "I can't believe you sometimes," he murmurs before checking the time on his phone. We've been closed for eleven minutes. Morgana is already gone with Mordred in tow. Gwen is busying with the coat rack near the security booth. The guard, Gaius – my uncle actually, is inside waiting for Arthur and I to finish our awkward staring business.

We walk out of the room together, scary close together, and Arthur doesn't open his mouth once about which pub we'll be drinking at, though I should know already. He always picks the same one: _Camelot._ Still, I ache the conversation. We're about a block away and I am desperate to say something. "You are one predictable bloke."

Arthur stops dead in his tracks. He turns to face me with a seriously straight line formed where his lips should be. Though I should be intimidated, I can feel that his body language is manufactured. "You can't actually talk to me like that."

"Yes, I can, sir, because I already did," I remark, lazily and with a thumping heart inside of my chest. We always chat this way, sharp and directly. I was never meant to have my job, not really, but there was an opening when I had come that day looking for Mordred's job. Gwen knew me, though, from school, and recommended me for the position personally.

So, here I am, Head of Finance, and I am constantly surprised by how much interacting I actually have to do with Arthur despite heading the finance department. I believe it's mostly because he doesn't know what his job is actually supposed to be, though he does quite a bit of mingling and socializing with the different departments and clients we acquire.

"Nobody else talks to me like that," he laughs, interrupting my train of thought. I shake my head, pulling my shoulders close, and decide to simply grin at his comment. "Why do you get to?"

'Cause I think of us as equals?

'Cause we see so much of each other that it's easy to poke fun?

'Cause I want you to notice me pretty desperately?

"'Cause you never actually ask me to stop," I decide, copping out of the truth.

Arthur bites that he shouldn't have to ask, that someone who is the victim of sexual harassment shouldn't have to ask the perpetrator to stop. It should never even begin, he exclaims into the sky, his blonde hair too short to actually whip in the wind the way it had done last year when he thought he wanted grow his hair out.

"It isn't that I want you to stop, exactly," Arthur reveals, resuming our walk again. "It's more that I just want to know why you feel so comfortable doing it. Morgana is the only other one who treats me so plainly, and it's because she's my sister and she loves me. Can't _not_ love your sibling, can you?"

While we're rounding the corner, I slip a bit behind him. He's answered his own question, hasn't he? Morgana feels comfortable enough to joke with him and go around doing whatever she likes at work. Sometimes she even has a morning date in her office if she pleases. But she loves him, and no matter what weird business she might tend when she's not at work, she'll be there for him if he truly needs her. And the same is true for me too: I love him.

That's why I make my sarcastic remarks and laugh every time he's made a fool of himself. Sometimes I correct him in front of clients if I happen to be around. I find myself lingering a bit until we reach the door of _Camelot_ , where Arthur then holds it wide open and gestures for me to go ahead of him. As I inch into the pub with deliberate steps, I lean into him let him know that he already has the answer.

"Just look for it," I declare, locking my eyes on his and waiting just a moment for him to see it. We're barely an inch apart before I slide inside, leaving him in the harsh wind with that knowledge.

Will it fly away?

If I'm lucky at all…


	13. Joke's on You

Merlin walks out of the bathroom and finds his way back to the private booth on the east side of the restaurant. From the rich brown hardwood to the cream crown moldings, the atmosphere outshines Merlin easily. Anyone could appear greater than they are in a place like this… Which might've been the point in setting him up here with one of her friends, since, as it were, Morgana had planned the blind date for him a couple of days ago.

While checking his cell phone for the time, Merlin scoots into the side of the booth where his red wine was awaiting him – just as the server had promised him. He finds that he doesn't get far before he is met with an unmoving force. "Oof," the blockage says.

Immediately Merlin recognizes the voice, though, and he drops his phone in favor of covering his face with his hands. "Bloody hell, what are you doing here?"

"Blind date. Gwen said she had a friend who was interested."

Trying to keep his cool, and also trying to decide if he should laugh or scream, Merlin moves out of the booth and sets across from Arthur Pendragon. This man is his boss, though only technically speaking, and his best friend. For years they've been working their way up the ladder at Pendragon Publishing. His father thought it would give Arthur a 'full' life experience. Mostly Arthur appreciates it, but sometimes he thinks it's annoying.

Like this.

This is annoying. "How long ago?" he asks, ruffling moussed black hair. He'd gone through the extra steps to look nicer than usual for this occasion. Arthur has already seen him at his worst, unfortunately, so it is a waste now. Once you sleep on an office floor after working a twenty-hour day – there's no turning back from that image. Arthur takes Merlin's red win and gulps it back, and back, and back, until it's completely gone.

"Two days ago, why?" Arthur asks, sometimes dafter than such a brilliant man should be at times, only to see Merlin unlocking his phone. By the time it registers why the day matters, there's a calendar displaying on Merlin's phone screen. Two days ago was the first of April – also know as April Fools' day.

"It's a joke," they say together, exasperated and tired. Earlier that day they were racing around to get a finalized manuscript formatted for the client wanted to move up the release date of this musician's biography since they'd announced an album release. The change will yield a larger profit margin, but the process was hell.

Merlin can't help but tilt his head down but stare over at Arthur. This blind date isn't all that disappointing, not really in the grand scheme of things anyway. More than often than not, Merlin and Arthur spend their nights together. Sometimes, sure, it is to work late, but generally they go home with each other. They are as domestic as anyone can be, really, and there's comfort in that.

So much comfort that Merlin can't even imagine his life _without_ Arthur now. His counterpart isn't as quick to admit it, though when things matter the most it's Merlin that he turns to, so that's the proof in the pudding. Arthur catches his friend's gaze and shutters a bit before looking out of the booth at the rest of the patrons. "Well, I guess it could've been worse. At least I know I like you already."

Merlin smirks and tucks his phone away back in his pocket. Surely Morgana is here, Gwen close in tow, waiting for the perfect moment to come out and say 'got you' before offering to cover their bill anyway. Unlike Arthur, Morgana lived with her mother and stepfather for a number of years. She enjoyed a fairly normal life until they passed away in a terrible car accident. And unlike Arthur, Morgana has no problem toying with the lives of others for a laugh or two. Thankfully, it is very rarely in poor taste.

"Good, because I am fond of you too," Merlin admits, his face as serious as he can make it and his voice low. His friend's shaggy blond hair flips when he turns back abruptly. One of his brows shoots up in an effort to question whether Merlin is meaning what it sounds like he's meaning, and Merlin nods at him curtly to admit that he is meaning precisely that. "I certainly wouldn't be disappointed if this turns out to be a proper date."

Arthur chokes out a laugh, but his eyes show that he's relieved. During the seconds that tick by while he tries to find the right response, Merlin lets his hand rest just past the middle of the table at the base of the empty wine glass. Everything is in Arthur's control now – he can choose to reciprocate the sentiment by putting his hands over Merlin's, or he can reject the confession and regard it as sarcasm.

Suddenly, though predictably, Morgana and Gwen show up under the guise of servers, offering to get refills for both gentlemen on their red wine. Arthur gets out of the booth and gets very close to his sister's face, not revealing his emotions and more than he was when he'd been sitting down. Merlin decides to stand at his side.

"What a funny joke, right?" Morgana's voice is dripping with amusement, though something sinister hides between her words. Gwen reaches out to Morgana's arm and holds her wrist gently, though the contact is broken so that she can cross her arms over her chest. "A bit of shock seeing that your date was Merlin, huh?"

Morgana's mockery of Arthur and his lifestyle has always drawn out his natural instincts. Whenever she pushes him past his breaking point, his truest self is revealed. This is one of those times. Merlin doesn't have the chance to admire the man he works with, though, because Arthur slides his hand around the back of Merlin's head. Before he can protest he finds that Arthur's lips are pressed against his own. The embrace is quick and powerful, but Merlin can taste on his tongue that this act is sincere.

"Well," Arthur begins, speaking when he's not even an inch away from Merlin's lips. When he faces her directly once again, his voice changes. It's deeper now. Normally this means he's upset or disappointed. Instead, though, there's a tickle of laughter behind his words now. "Joke's on you, isn't it?"

Gwen giggles, almost as if she knew all along the truth. She curls her body towards Morgana, adding clarity to the situation. "I think we've done them a favor, actually."

Morgana rolls her eyes and scoffs, "You're no fun."

"Sorry to disappoint," Merlin hums, taking Arthur's elbow and gesturing back towards the table. Gwen wishes them well on their date, only she's properly saying it now, and Morgana flashes a toothy grin despite the turn of events. Once the ladies leave, the men are left sitting in the booth across from one another.

Merlin can't resist the urge to ask, for his own peace of mind. "So this is no joke, then? That was real?"

"April Fools' day was two days ago, why would I try to pull a fast one now?" Arthur says, his lips curling into a smirk with glistening eyes watching his reaction closely. Merlin has come to read his boss more easily than any of the manuscripts that they've ever had turned over. He knew that Arthur was genuine before but this look – it cements that knowledge in stone.

Merlin shrugs, daring to hold onto this moment as long as possible. It feels good to know that it isn't all in his head for once, or littering his dreams night after night for that matter, too. Arthur Pendragon actually likes him back. "Fantastic! I'm ready to stop pretending like I'm your dedicated assistant and just be in love with you instead."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I threw this together super last minute, not having originally intended to do one for April Fool's Day or Easter (I don't really care for either one, personally). But in the middle of a game of Scrabble with my family, this idea of a joke backfiring was really appealing. I hope I've done it justice. Admittedly, I didn't go back and edit it through - so apologies for that.  
Also my apologies for doing so many Modern!AU versions of Merthur. It's kind of my guilty pleasure.

Thanks for reading! You're fantastic, absolutely fantastic!


	14. A Royal Wedding

Arthur stood at the front of his court, nervous and concerned. Men to lay with men? It wasn't unheard of, and far more common than he once believed. Men to marry men? Now that was unprecedented. To many, it was ruining the sanctity or marriage and the throne. He would have no heirs from this marriage. It worried him to consider how many people would be outraged when it wasn't a beautiful _woman_ that entered the court.

He'd kept it all a secret with the help of Gwen, Gaius, and his most trusted knights. They were alarmingly supportive when he'd decided to embrace the love he shared with Merlin. The proposal wasn't planned. The relationship wasn't planned.

But love can't be planned.

"Hear, hear," Leon called out to the troves of people gathered all around in every crevice. Their roars grew louder, clapping only made the scene more rambunctious than before – which he'd have thought impossible in the seconds prior. Still, Leon endeavored to quiet them. "HEAR, HEAR!"

His shout was but a whisper amongst the commotion.

Arthur recognized the need for his command and raised a hand into the air, silently directing his people to quiet down. Once Leon knew he would be heard, he began his announcement. "We have gathered here today to bear witness to one of life's many joys, the union of two people in love."

A few scattered claps emerged again but they dissipated as quickly as they came. Arthur watched and listened with lackluster commitment. It was only by luck that he registered the announcement to open the doors. Nobody would be waiting behind them, but Arthur knew it be so. He didn't let his heart sink at the emptiness before him. Instead, he stared down the aisle as he waited impatiently for Merlin to step into his view.

It was a lovely sight to behold - Merlin dressed in something other rags. Traded out were his red and blue tunics for lavish golden robes. His hair was brushed neatly to the side; Gwen's doing, of course. The most striking thing about his appearance had been his eyes – blue, brilliant, and _his._ Arthur wouldn't have wanted anyone else to meet his gaze on his wedding day, _not really_.

There was only ever one ending written for their story.

And it was a royal wedding.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** I know that the Royal Wedding between Prince Henry and Meghan Markle isn't a technical holiday, but it is an incredibly special event. I wanted to write something short and special for this day to add to my Holidays with Merthur fic set and hope that you find this endearing and amusing._


	15. Strength in Sadness

People are flocking into the hall, as Merlin expected, dressed in their nicest clothes with their biggest smiles. Many of these people are friends of Arthur's and belong amongst his company. Some are visiting royals from other kingdoms, and their presence is a formality rather than anything genuine, but even they are joyous. A king's birthday is no small ordeal. It is something truly worth celebrating.

Unfortunately, Arthur wades in and out of the guests looking only half interested in the party. Hopping from one conversation to the next, it seems to Merlin that the king is tiring. Responsibilities busy the manservant enough that he doesn't even realize when the king disappears from the dining hall entirely.

"Merlin," Gwen appears suddenly with a panicked voice, "did you see where Arthur went?"

Shaking his head, Merlin offers a lazy explanation. "I think he might've stepped out for a moment. He was looking a bit off earlier." She sighs before pattering off, muttering as she goes. Gwen's maternal instinct makes her a great friend and an even better handmaiden. There's a not a single person that she works for that doesn't consider her a friend.

It takes some time, but Merlin finishes the running around and tasks he'd been set to do. Once he is sure he's in the clear, the manservant sneaks into the hallway to check for the king. Nobody is around, though, which is unsettling. Arthur wouldn't have gone far unless he had no intention of coming back to the festivities. And he wouldn't have done that since the celebration is for him – for _his_ birthday. At least, Merlin doesn't think he would do that...

Merlin's feet carry him along the familiar path he takes each morning to the king's bedroom. If Arthur really did abandon the party, it could've been because he was tired, and he would've come to his private quarters to sleep. Why he did so without alerting his servant is a bit strange, but that'll be a question for Merlin to ask when he finds the king. When he opens the door, however, the room is empty.

"Arthur?" he calls out, thinking that there might be somewhere in the room that he can't see at a glance. The king could be hiding. "Arthur?"

But there is no reply. Perhaps the throne room? Merlin twists in place and sets off to try there next.

Arthur isn't there either. Or the library. Or the kitchens. Or the courtyard. Or anywhere else in the castle that he could normally be found doing something or another…

Defeat grabs Merlin by the gut, panic threatening to take its place. Where did the king go? Where was Arthur Pendragon while his people, his _friends_ , were throwing a party in his name in the castle? What an odd time to disappear without a trace. It isn't very becoming of a king to leave his people behind, and certainly not like Arthur to abandon his responsibility as a leader.

The thought of an unbecoming king does get Merlin's mind working, though. He'd never been fond of Uther Pendragon, Arthur's late father, who often did things that weren't kingly at all. Selfish 'til the end, Uther prioritized what he wanted above the safety and needs of others – especially in pertinence to magic. There was no reason for the young sorcerer to think kindly of the man in any capacity.

Arthur, on the other hand, held his father in the highest regard.

Nothing was done to Uther's room at Arthur's request. It was kept in the same condition it was left in at his death, and nobody was permitted inside for any reason other than to dust and clean. Usually, Gwen was tasked with this work because she could be trusted. As far as Merlin had known, Arthur never went back into the room.

Yet, there he was, sitting at the foot of his father's bed, face cupped by his hands. Merlin inched inside as quietly as possible, only coughing ever so slightly to alert Arthur that he was there. The king didn't lift his head to greet his servant, nor did he reply in any way. The quiet stayed.

Having lost his own father, Merlin understands the emptiness Arthur is feeling. "I was worried about you. Why didn't you say you were leaving?"

Scoffing, he shrugs his shoulders. "I keep looking for his face in the crowd. He can't be there but I keep looking anyway."

Merlin's throat tightens; a lump blocks him from breathing. It is so rare for Arthur Pendragon to be vulnerable. Grief must be drowning him if he is this forthcoming about his sorrow. Aware that the king is hurting, Merlin simply joins the king at the foot of his father's bed.

He is unsure if Arthur is comforted by his presence or not, but he doesn't cast Merlin away. He doesn't tell the manservant to leave. Instead, they sit in the silence. Arthur is undoubtedly reflecting on his memories of his father while Merlin considers the life he lived without one. What a strong influence a father can have, oftentimes without even realizing it. The short time that Merlin knew his father changed him. He still feels the effects of those experiences, the impact they've made on his life even today.

They stay for quite a long time. Nobody comes around to this wing of the castle, though Merlin is sure that people are looking for their king. If not, at least Gwen will be starting to worry about where they've both gone.

When everything feels right, Merlin decides to address Arthur. "I don't need to tell you what your father would've wanted from you. We both know he would want you to be strong and to go back to the party."

"He'd be furious that I'm even in here," Arthur laughs.

Merlin positions himself a bit forward so he can see the king's expression. It is important to him that Arthur hears what he has to say. It is important the Arthur understand what he means. "But sometimes to be strong is to be sad."

Arthur laughs again, but this time he looks over at Merlin. They hold one another's gaze somehow awkwardly and comfortably. Everything between them is strange yet familiar. Neither of them seems to ever care. When the manservant breaks out into a grin, the king follows suit. "I hate it when you give good advice, Merlin."

"I know," he mumbles, glad that Arthur was receptive and tired from the night's festivities. Both men relaxing now, they lean away from one another onto a bedpost.

Arthur starts tapping his fingers against his leg. "Merlin…"

"Yes?" he asks, distracted with nothing in particular.

"If I can't have my father here, then I'm glad that I have you," Arthur admits, voice soft and tone deliberate. Absolutely he means what he is saying. The lump that was in Merlin's throat earlier returns, bigger now than before, and more suffocating too. "You are quite possibly my best and only friend, Merlin."

Dipping his chin into his chest, Merlin struggles to find his voice. Arthur notices straight away, nudging him to draw out a response. "As you are mine," he mutters.

If they can't have their fathers, there really is no better thing to have than each other. _Two sides of the same coin_ , Merlin thought, _destinies intertwined._


	16. Happiness Found Them

Eating breakfast together was sort of a holiday tradition. Every important holiday started at the table, usually with Merlin's basically famous blueberry pancakes. And Father's Day was no exception – all three boys sat at the table with their plates piled high with their favorite sugary sweet breakfasts.

Of all the holidays, Father's Day was easier, Arthur found.

After years without Gwen, the pain of her loss lingered just as strongly as the day she died. Nothing had been wrong – and then _everything_ was wrong. It started as a common cold, then it became the flu, then she developed pneumonia, and then – her organs began to fail? She was only sick for a week, but her health deteriorated so quickly that Arthur felt that he hadn't had time to properly grieve her loss. It made Mother's Day a complete nightmare.

Thomas, his son, was too young to really remember Gwen. He was only a little older than a year, and he'd grown up in a world where had just his father. Well, his _fathers._

Merlin started off as Arthur's personal assistant at Pendragon Incorporated. When Gwen died, however, Merlin stepped in and offered to help with Thomas too. Things were awkward for several months as Arthur got used to Merlin being everywhere in his life – at work, at home, in his leisure time – but eventually it was so normal that Arthur couldn't imagine a moment in his day without Merlin.

Thomas had grown up thinking of Merlin as his dad too because of how often he was around, and at some point he had moved into their guest bedroom as a permanent member of the Pendragon household. Arthur never corrected his son's thinking, and had come to really love Merlin. The three of them made a whole family in their special way. As with Gwen, wherever Arthur was lacking, Merlin could more than compensate his weaknesses. It worked in the reverse as well, which made their dynamic every bit as natural as when he was married to Gwen.

Marriage isn't something that gets discussed in the Pendragon household. Merlin and Arthur didn't really do much besides work and spend time with Thomas. Their son kept them very busy between his clubs and sports. Arthur was sure that their eleven year old was the only one of his friends that required his own planner. Every night there was something going on that he needed do for sport or school.

So it was really odd when Thomas asked his dads about marriage.

"Are you going to get married?" Thomas asked abruptly as he cut into his pancakes. Merlin choked, though not quite as dramatically as Arthur. Their forks and knives dropped against the plate, clanging the only noise to fill the awkward silence.

Merlin spoke first, probably due to a clearer mind that Arthur at the time. "Why do you ask, Tom?"

"You've just been together for a long time and I thought people who love each other got married usually," he said, an air about his thought process reflective of his age. Innocence often allowed Thomas to speak frankly about things that would've made Merlin and Arthur think twice before speaking. Careful word choice is the worry of an adult, they'd come to realize.

Merlin looked at Arthur, expecting him to answer the question. Was there really an answer to give? They'd never considered themselves in a relationship so much as a partnership, or so that was as far as Arthur had ever thought of it. Merlin had never suggested it was more than friendship either.

Arthur sucked in as much air as his lungs could hold. Even as he opened his mouth, he hadn't been sure what he would say. "Not every couple that is in love gets married, Thomas. Every relationship is different."

"But you got married to mom," Thomas commented, looking even more confused.

Merlin interjected this time. "We put so much of our love and time into making sure that you're having a good childhood, I don't think we've really ever discussed what our future looks like. Neither one of us has been on a date in years – more years than you've been alive!"

Thomas dropped his jaw, his half chewed pancakes exposed with his open mouth. He tried to talk through it but everything he said was totally incoherent. Arthur theorized that it was a sarcastic comment about how old they were or how sad it was that they hadn't gone on a date.

When he swallowed his food, he made a declaration. "Well, you should go on a date for Father's Day! I have sixty dollars in my piggy bank so I can send you out to dinner, I think."

Thomas left the table without permission and pattered away to his bedroom. He came back with a stack of ones and a list of restaurants that he thought might be romantic enough for his dads. Merlin and Arthur didn't want to squash their son's excitement and timidly agreed to go out for dinner.

"While you're on your date, do you think Grandma Hunith could watch me instead of Aunt Morgana?" he requested as he gathered up Merlin and Arthur's shoes. Apparently, Morgana was kind of grumpy and not very nice the last time she watched him. Thomas continued to make plans for their 'date' that evening.

But by the time Hunith came around to watch Thomas, it didn't seem like a terrible idea. There was a steakhouse that Arthur had wanted to try that opened on the other side of town, and Merlin decided they don't do enough for themselves anyway. Neither of them really intended to call it a date until they got to the restaurant.

It was only because the server asked if their fathers were planning to join them. "We are the fathers, actually," Arthur had said curtly. "Our son wanted us to come out for dinner just the two of us." All at once, they acknowledged indirectly that it _was_ a date. In fact, it ended up being the server that called it a date first, but Merlin and Arthur did as they had always done: accepted it.

What had been a partnership blossomed into much more after that night, and eventually it did result in a wedding – which Thomas thought was exactly how it should've happened. They married on Father's Day, of course, because it seemed right. It was Thomas' idea.

Arthur and Merlin hadn't known how full their life could be until their nuptials. It was strange how their roles as fathers turned out to be more of a consequence to an action they never took, the effect to an unpredictable cause. And yet, they never felt as if they were forced into the life that they had come to share.

It just found them.

Happiness found them when they weren't even looking.


	17. Tears of the King (Day6 in January 1)

**" _I want to cry for you,_**

 ** _I want to hurt instead of you…"_**

* * *

"When You Love Someone"

Day6

* * *

The fresh snow outside is probably twinkling in the moonlight, and surely there are servants stopping to look at Camelot's fresh blanket. Merlin can see twinkling, of course, only it's not from the moon or the snow. Instead, the twinkling of Arthur's freshly spilled tears are lighting up in the flickering glow of the only candle that the king has left burning in his room.

A long time has passed since that warm day that Morgana sabotaged Arthur's relationship with Guinevere. He had done all he could in his power to prevent the events that transpired, but Merlin always feels that each step forward is a step in the wrong direction. The idea has been plaguing his thoughts, his dreams, and his fears for many years now; he can't escape it. But this – the king crying in the supposed privacy of his own chambers – is a future he never could have imagined would come to be.

Merlin's own eyes begin to sting, tears threatening his own eyes now. A massive part of him wants to run inside and warp his arms around Arthur, comforting him and showering him with all of the compliments that he forgets to hear. He even lurches forward, just a sliver, believing that he'll take action. Then he's crippled again by the fear of rejection. More than once Arthur has declared the impact and value of their friendship, of Merlin's unwavering loyalty to him, and the trust they have in one another, but the servant cannot believe that the king would accept his efforts without a fight.

So, for as much as Merlin would like end Arthur's pain, take it from him and bear the burden on his own, he knows that this is a battle Arthur must fight on his own. This is the result of many events coming together, so many of which Merlin played and active role. This is simply life, and these are simply consequences.

These tears of the king are just the consequences Merlin must bear.


	18. One More Taste (Day6 in January 2)

**" _After this moment,_**

 ** _I'm not sure if we can go back to being natural…"_**

* * *

"I Like You"

Day6

* * *

Merlin has fistfuls of my hair, I can almost feel it squeezed between his fingers, but it's competing with the heat of his tongue against mine. I can't remember how we got into this situation, and now that I've tasted him, I'm not sure I want to remember a time before this. When he tries to pull away, a part of me aches for him. I didn't even know that part of me existed. How did I ever miss a feeling this big?

"I like you," he's whispering as his lips fall back onto mine.

No sweeter words have been spoken, I don't think. I should say them back! I should repeat them to him so that he knows that I like him too! I should let him know that this feels _good_ – that _us_ feels good! I should…

"I love you," I murmur back. "I love you."

What did I just say to him? I can't unsay it but … _what did I just say to him?_

I said that I love him, I know it did, but I can't believe I've said it. How can I love him when he's only just started snogging me a few moments ago? That's certainly not how love works properly. I thought I loved Gwen, and that was only after we danced around our feelings for a few years. Our relationship was shorter than the building by an embarrassing amount of time.

But my point to myself is that I can't love Merlin already, can I? Sure, we've been friends for years, and we have done everything together since high school, and we've been rooming together for the last four years while I get through college. He's been there for me when Morgana lost her mind and murdered a bunch of people, when my dad eventually died during and experimental drug trial, and when my family name became a bit of a social embarrassment.

Sure, he's always my loudest cheerleader and my strongest support.

But that doesn't mean I love him.

Does it? I don't even realize that I've stopped kissing him back, or that my hands have moved from his back to his chest, holding him just a bit away from me. Everything in me wants to stop and pull him in again, yet I don't move.

"I didn't know I could skip right to 'I love you,' but now that I do," Merlin says in one of those breathy tones that knocks the wind right out of me, "I love you, Arthur Pendragon. Always have, actually."

Hearing this leaves me speechless. Merlin loves me? He's always loved me? I can't possibly deserve this kind of love. We've just been friends. I've only ever seen as friends. He shouldn't be allowed to love me if I've only just realized what Merlin means to me. I should ask him to slow down, to let me prove to him that I'm worth that kind of emotion.

But instead, I push myself right up and pull him back into me. I just need one more kiss before we figure out what this means for us. Our love can take shape…

After one more taste…


	19. Beach Break (Day6 in January 3)

**" _I'm afraid to touch you,_**

 ** _I just want look at you a little more,_**

 ** _I want to remember this moment,_**

 ** _I want to cherish it."_**

* * *

"Say Wow"

Day6

* * *

"The sun is really bright," Arthur says passively, covering his eyes as he rolls over on his beach towel. Peeling his gaze away from his phone, Merlin sees that Arthur's sunglasses are still tucked in the side pocket of the backpack they brought along with them. He considers reminding Arthur that he has them but he looks entirely too content.

It had been Arthur's idea to travel to California. They were in New York doing business for Pendragon Industries, and not everything went according to plan. Some compromises had to be made, which left Arthur pretty angry and deflated. Then, in the middle of the night, he booked a trip for the two of them to travel to the west coast for a break.

He's so peaceful, relaxed and in clothes that don't make him look stuffy. His hair is messy and poking all about from the number of times he's ran his sandy hands through it. Splotches of white are all over his back because he insisted on the cream sunscreen instead of the spray on.

"If you were a fiery, burning star, you'd be bright too, you clot," Merlin jokes softly, still cherishing the sight of his boss and best friend relaxing. They don't have many opportunities to enjoy each other's company outside of work, which makes this all the more special to Merlin.

Arthur smiles, bunching skin up around his eyes and against his arm where his head rests. Even without seeing the joy in his eyes, though, Merlin can see it in his muscles, in the way that Arthur is just lazing about. He's happy.

An urge to reach out and pat his shoulder comes and goes, something Merlin has become accustom to pushing to the side lately. When it passes he decides to lie down too, just for a little bit. "But I forgive you for not understanding what the sun is because you work too hard at your 'big deal' office job."

"Shut up," he laughs. "Can't we enjoy this time without you being smarter than me just this one?"


	20. Beautiful Feeling (Day6 in January 4)

**" _Shivers go down my body,_**

 ** _I'm so happy that I'm shedding tears…"_**

* * *

"Beautiful Feeling"

Day6

* * *

Gwen looks from Arthur to Merlin and back again. Gaius has announced that the grooms would read their own vows, which was what they had planned on doing form the beginning, but neither one of them are doing anything. Arthur is trembling so visibly that she's almost convinced there's an earthquake only where he's standing.

As for Merlin, he's literally a waterfall of tears. They both have smiles; they're both gawking at each other with undeniable joy. It's just that neither one of them are saying their vows. Fortunately, Gwen helped Arthur with his, so she coughs – several times.

"You – are – my – definition – of – perfect," she gets out, though not nearly as coyly as she would've hoped.

Arthur turns his head to look at Gwen squirming in her seat, trying her best to indicate that he needs to get his vows out and _read_ them. By the time he understands her, though, everyone in attendance is staring at her. "Sorry," she mutters before pushing herself back in her seat.

"That was embarrassing," Morgana declares from behind her, a tiny laugh in her voice. Gwen and Merlin had both rather hoped Morgana would show up for the ceremony, but she made a show of her appearance. She even brought her 'prodigy' with her.

"Merlin, uh," Arthur starts, fumbling with his free hand to get out his phone so that he can read the vows she typed up for him. It took hours to help Arthur pin down the perfect words to say in the perfect order and she had to beg him to stop using the word perfect so often, but they eventually put something together that Arthur felt was right. "You are _my_ definition of perfect…"

"I'm sorry I'm crying so much," Merlin interrupts him, ending his apology with a nervous laugh.

"At least happy crying makes sense," Arthur fires back. "I'm shaking all over and I'm pretty sure everyone can feel it."

Lancelot decides to chime in, though, making it far less awkward for the guests. "Everyone can see it too, mate!"

"Let's skip straight to 'I do' then?" Merlin suggests, already leaning forward to kiss his soon-to-be husband. They're on the same page, obviously, because Arthur doesn't hesitate. The second Merlin's question is posed he stops shivering embraces the true love of his life.

Gwen relaxes at the sight of her two best friends, finally wed, and at their happiest. No two people could belong together more so than they do and something about that just makes her feel so hopeful.

"I used to think that would be us, you know," Lancelot remarks quietly. They hadn't come together but Merlin sat them together intentionally. Their flame had died out twice before, coming between her and Arthur multiple time, but Merlin insisted that there was more there to explore. He told her that 'third times a charm' when she saw the seating charts. Gwen hadn't been happy about it at first.

But being in love is such a beautiful feeling. "Maybe it still could be."


	21. What's that Smell?

In honor of March 21st – Fragrance Day (a day late, I'm afraid)

* * *

Arthur stood in front of the mirror with his armor laid out neatly on the table behind him. He can see the metal glinting whenever the sunshine blinks through the clouds and his open window. Despite noticing these things, the only thought that keeps circulating in his mind is this:

Merlin is late.

To be fair, it was a common thought of his, since the manservant was always missing for this reason or that. Arthur was perfectly aware that he never got told the truth. Gaius constantly told him that Merlin was off at the tavern, but the barkeep had never seen Merlin in there outside of when he would come with the prince. The thought occurred to Arthur that perhaps there was something else that Merlin wanted to keep hidden.

Was he was popular with the ladies in the lower city? He mulled it over as he ended up sniffing himself and trying to determine his own attractiveness. Plenty of women had flirted with him and danced with him at festivals and tournaments, but rarely did those fleeting attractions stick for long. His own father hadn't even tried pairing him off for the benefit of the kingdom – yet, at least. Perhaps he smelled bad?

The smell wouldn't be the only off-putting thing, though, according to Merlin. Oft did the words leave the young man's mouth that the prince was "arrogant" and "selfish." Arthur hadn't noticed these traits about himself until that moment when he stood vulnerable in front of a mirror, alone and waiting for the only person who didn't beat around their words with him. He stood there waiting for the most important person in his life.

All of that in his head, however, he did smell quite pungent. He'd bathed, but the summers left the air sticky. Sleeping without a shred of clothing on didn't do much in the ways of cooling, and certainly not in the ways of smelling either. He could use a bath…

…but he'd need Merlin for that too. It would be him who would fetch the water.

Unwilling to wait for the manservant, Arthur decided to head to the lower city in search of sweet-smelling herbs or something more fragrant than his sweat.

Arthur charged through his door with a mission in mind, and he felt great about it until he nearly plowed over Gwen. Her cheeks blushed and she curtsied the second she regained her footing. "Pardon me, my lord. I should have looked around the corner."

"Nonsense, Guinevere, you are as much at home in the castle as I am," Arthur proclaimed in a somewhat short temper. His irritation wasn't with her and it must have shown because she smiled – and then questioned him.

"Where are you off to in such a rush? Has Merlin slept in again?"

A likely story for most anyone else but never with Merlin. More mysterious than magic and more unpredictable than a child with a broadsword, Merlin could be anywhere in Camelot – except his bed and the tavern. Arthur shrugged in reply and then shook his head. "Merlin didn't show up this morning, but that's not where I'm going right now. I'm going to the market to look for something."

Smiling at him again, Gwen bowed her head. "Well, I wish you luck, my lord. I hope you find what you are looking for – and Merlin, too."

Before she's even taken a step, Arthur is off again, correcting the handmaiden as he goes. "You can call me 'Arthur,' Guinevere. We're friends!"

The emphasis he puts on the word 'friends' echoes through the hallway.

Each stall vendor greeted him joyously and offered free goods. Some items he accepted, only because they were so abundant, but everything else he offered money for so that he was not treated specially in comparison to his people. By the time he found the stall he'd needed, the one that brought him out of the castle in such a rush, the vendor was closing up and packing away her products.

"Good morning," he began, "Can I ask you why you're closing your stall so early?"

The lady offered a half-hearted grin and then tapped at her chest. "When the air gets too thick, it makes breathing mighty difficult for a woman of my age. I can feel the heat beating on my shoulders already so I must be packing my wares so that I can get home before I overheat. I reckon there'll be more moving to their homes here soon. The summer heat is terrible this year."

Arthur bobbed his head and listened intently as she explained herself. She didn't need to give him any explanation, but she did so willingly anyway. Everything she said did make sense, as well, as he was already familiar with some of the side effects of the heat in the way his men trained, in the way everyone's mood shifted, and in the activity of the city. Still, he wished to make a purchase.

"If I may, I would like to make you an offer," he said confidently, a plan already in his mind.

"Sure," she said gently, paying full attention to him as he shifted to be closer to her.

As he spoke, he gestured to her boxes. "I wish to make a purchase from you today, but I would like to help you carry your wares back to your cottage. I'll pay you full price for the item when we get there. Could you find that to be a fair arrangement?"

"More than fair, sire," she whispered in a surprise. "It is far more than I would expect from any prince from any kingdom."

Arthur grinned and started reaching for her boxes that were already well packed. "Then, please, lead the way!"

It took a great deal of time and a good number of breaks for the stall vendor to rest. Arthur learned that her name was Magdalene and that she'd lived in Camelot her entire life. All of her fragrances are made from local herbs, flowers, and grasses. She often uses oils as well but prefers to utilize rare ingredients from visitors to make her perfumes stand out.

He also learned that she doesn't generally make any scents for men. "I've never had a man buy for himself from my stall. It was always strange to me that men did not worry that they stink," she had cooed with a certain level of interest that made Arthur feel that he didn't need to panic or feel let down. Magdalene did not disappoint, either, because she said that she would need to go to her sewing desk to get a bottle she had tucked away that may be of some interest to him.

She walked away with her long, frayed hair fluttering behind her. It wasn't quite as gray as Gaius' hair, but it would be there in due time. Though, she hobbled and visibly ached from moving around. Arthur had to wonder how many more years she could take care of herself before she would resign herself to homelessness and misfortune. If he could do anything to help her, he knew he would try. Nobody deserved to feel, or be, as helpless as Magdalene seemed to be.

While he waited for the elderly woman to return, he saw that she had dishes piled on her counter. Although they were cleared of food, he could see that they needed rinsing. There was a pot of water sitting in the fireplace overtop some smoldering coals, which Arthur checked for warmth. He could wash the dishes for her if only he knew whether or not he should use that water.

"This bottle," Magdalene's voice carried through the short hallway as she started back. He turned to greet her with his full attention to see her carrying a small glass bottle that is tinted blue. "When I was adding petals to the water, I accidentally grabbed the wrong poultice bag. There were moss and patchouli in the bag I put into the mixture. It came out smelling nice enough, but it was too subtle and got passed up for more intense perfumes."

Magdalene put a splash of the liquid on the back of her hand and rubbed it into her skin just a little. There was still glistening moisture to her hand as she got closer with her hand lifted to his nose. Arthur could smell it before she approached, for as subtle as the fragrance was, and he found it to be pleasant.

"I would love it, should you be willing to sell it, Magdalene," Arthur proclaimed excitedly, his eyes hungrily shifting from her to the bottle. Thankfully, she did not hesitate to give it to him.

"It is yours," she said quickly, only speaking again to clarify one detail for him. "But I insist that you do not pay. I haven't been able to get it off of my hands for quite some time now. It is gift enough for it to be in grateful hands.

Arthur felt obligated to give her something, and he did it a sneakily as possible. He offered to wash her dishes, which she accepted because her arms and legs were hurting terribly. Then she let him sweep up the floors before putting her boxes in her sewing room for storage. Magdalene was going to need a couple of days to recover, she'd thought, and needed them out of the way.

It was this chore that presented him with the opportunity to hide money for her. He stuffed his entire coin bag into one of the boxes for her to find when she went back through her wares. It should be more than enough to cover the tax collections for several months in a row without worry. If he could do nothing else for her yet, Arthur wanted to do at least this thing to help.

Traveling back to the castle was less strenuous, and Arthur kept his purchase wrapped neatly into the satchel he'd taken with him. The bottle was nestled perfectly between food items and clothing ones, protecting it from bumps and cracking. He was nearly to the castle when he caught sight of Merlin running up the steps and through the entrance. Arthur just assumed that Merlin would be waiting for him in his chambers and made no effort to rush after him.

He was wrong, though. Just as Arthur rounded the corner to the last hallway that would take him straight to him to his bedroom, he collides with someone _again_ walking by. This time – he's the one who gets knocked over and he loses his bag. Worse than that still, however, he hears the glass shattering in the bag.

"What are you doing there?" Merlin asked in his usual tone – oblivious and innocent. Arthur never could decide if he hated or loved how positive the man was, but he was thankful to at least know where the hell he was at that exact moment.

Growling as he swipes his bag from the ground only to see a puddle left behind. Merlin didn't hesitate to drop Arthur's laundry on top of it, either. "That should soak most of it up, I figure. Are you okay?"

"Yes," he managed to say through his heavy disappointment and frustration. He stood himself back up and met Merlin's cautious gaze. As they were standing there, the manservant started sniffing the air. It made Arthur fake an aggravated sigh to see if he could pick up on the smell too, but he failed. "Why is your face like that?"

That was definitely going to elicit a response.

Merlin sniffed the air more dramatically at that point. "What's that smell?"

Arthur then took a deep breath to see if he could smell it since he didn't have to hide his efforts, but still couldn't pick it up. It was far too faint. "What smell?"

"it smells," Merlin paused, breathing it in again, "not bad."

Defeat washed over Arthur. At least it smelled 'not bad,' he supposed in those moments. It could've been worse. Finally, he ran his hand through his hair and moved their conversation in a new direction. "I need hot water for a bath. So, if you could actually work, I'd like to do that before I go for lunch with my father."

"Yes, sire," he hummed, quickly grabbing the dirty laundry he'd had in his arms and ran off again. Arthur listened to his feet as they slammed against the floor, softened only by the sound of his own boots as they thudded on the stone. Once he was back inside of his chambers, there was only one thought that rattled around in his head:

How do I get my hands on another bottle?

The prospect of smelling "not bad" was now irresistible to Arthur Pendragon.


End file.
